Full Circle
by Samwise Baggins
Summary: Eight years after returning from the Realm, the kids have a reunion beyond their dreams… or nightmares.
1. Waxing Crescent

Title: Waxing Crescent

Author: Sam  
Series: Full Circle 01/ 4

Rating: PG-13: Language, Violence, and other sensitive topics  
Setting: Earth 1991

Characters & Ages: For now, let's say several… with many of the Young Ones being introduced in this chapter.

Summary: Eight years after returning from the Realm, the kids have a reunion beyond their dreams… or nightmares.

Spoiler: Basically, random episodes from the Animated D&D series, as well as the un-aired "Requiem" episode by Michael Reeves. Die-hard fans may not approve of what I do with Uni in this series, and for that I am sorry.

Category: Fantasy, General

Disclaimer: Dungeons and Dragons is a trademark of TSR and the cartoon is a creation of many peoples, including Marvel Productions, TSR inc., Saban Entertainment, and Wizards of the Coast. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership to these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story... and most likely not a story any of them would have written had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this, and it is just for my entertainment, and that of free entertainment to a select group of friends. Thank You.

Distribution: Please ask first?

Note: I'd like to avidly thank Merriana, who not only expressed remorse that the story didn't begin with Eric, but was adamant that certain couples should never be put together… yet was still willing to Beta it for me. Thank you, Marianna.

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

* * *

~~* ~~* ~~*  


_ All my life's a circle  
Sunrise and sundown  
The moon flows through the nighttime  
Till the daybreak comes around  
All my life's a circle  
But I can't tell you why  
The seasons spinning round and round  
The years keep rolling by  
_

--- Harry Chapin

~~* ~~* ~~*  


_Where does the time fly?_ He shook his head and hung up the cell phone, smiling at a bittersweet memory. Continuing towards the sliding doors, the twenty-four year old ran a hand through longish blond hair and tried to mentally sort through his schedule.

Maybe he could squeeze...

A honking horn cut Hank off in the middle of his figuring. With a sigh, the man picked up the suitcase and headed for the loading area. As he slid into the car, he suddenly realized he'd forgotten to pick something up. With a sheepish grin, he held up a hand and flung himself from the car. "I forgot something, give me a sec?"

And before his companion could protest, the man was hurrying back towards the building. He reached the secured luggage area, however, he'd been in such a rush he'd forgotten his I.D. A suspicious guard called for backup and Hank groaned, knowing he was going to be late. God, how he hated airports.

With a frown, the driver of the car stepped out and headed to the security office. He merely glared at his partner, reminding himself that the man was on a very tight schedule with very little sleep. It didn't help. Hank had been making mistakes during this assignment and Dave wanted to know why... once and for all.

"Yo, Baker. What has got you spaced, man? I've never seen you so sloppy, in the field or out."

As backup arrived for the guard, Hank lay his head on the door, trying to pull himself together. Dave was right; he was a mess... and all because of the phone call he'd gotten last week. Straightening as he heard his partner talking to the guards, the blond shook his head and sighed once more. He needed a vacation... badly.

The phone call came to mind, and he wondered if he dared.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, just adding credence to Dave's complaints about his faulty reactions. He hadn't even heard the guy approaching. Hank turned his head to look at his friend and gave him a weak smile.

"What gives, Baker? You've been jumpy as a coon at a barbecue since you got that weird call on the flight out. You... Hey, is your wife sick?" Dave frowned and hit him in the arm, hard. "You shoulda told me, man! Guy with a sick wife can't concentrate on the job." His voice sounded angrier than his words.

Dave was right. He'd endangered his partner by not backing off when he'd gotten the call; he would put in for vacation as soon as he got back to the precinct. He couldn't see why he hadn't before... except this convention had unexpectedly been bumped up... except his wife had encouraged him to go and enjoy the Florida sunshine... except he'd needed time to sort out his thoughts before they made that final, irrevocable step towards a family.

The dark haired officer watched the play of emotions race across his partner's face. He'd hit it very close, if not dead on. There were family problems and Hank, ever mindful of his duty, hadn't said a word. Well, Dave wasn't going to let this string out any further. The man would get them all killed with his damned sense of duty.

"Go home. Take a vacation. I can work with that rookie a couple of weeks, no sweat."

Hank nodded, surprising his partner, who'd expected more of an argument. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I've been distracted. I... I could get someone seriously hurt this way."

There was that sense of duty again. Solemnly, Dave nodded, but his face broke into a slight smile for his long-time friend. "Hey, you didn't, though. The kid's alive and safe back with his dad. Case solved; another success for Lashley and Baker."

Instinctively, Hank corrected him, "Baker and Lashley." It was an old joke between the two investigators. Neither was a private-practice man yet, but, having been assigned almost exclusively to abductions, they were one step closer. They'd been lucky this last case was a simple Parental Abduction demonstration for a Law Enforcement convention, though, or a lot of problems could have been caused by Hank's preoccupation.

With a sigh, Hank accepted his wallet, which Dave belatedly offered, and filled out the paperwork, which the guard sullenly offered. He heard Dave's impatient sigh from the doorway as he finally received the hand-tooled leather case. It was half his size or more, long and not quite bulky, but not slim and easy to wield either. Turning, he noted the curiosity in his partner's eyes and sighed. "It's a bow." He didn't often tell anyone just what he carried with him; and those he did tell thought it was some weird sport fetish. They joked that while most people were on the golf range, Henry 'Hank' Baker was out playing _Robin Hood_.

Dave finally grinned and shrugged. He hadn't seen that case in awhile and had forgotten that his partner was an archery fan. "Well, Officer Hood, let's grab us a set of wheels and boogie on home." He slapped Hank on the back, ignoring the grimace at the teasing, and guided the man outside and into the still idling ford. It was fortunate they hadn't been ticketed or towed for leaving it there.

As they pulled out of the airport drive, the brunette glanced at the worried blond. "By the way, mind if I ask what's wrong with the wife? You said she was sick, right? Been a week, then, right?"

Hank sighed and shrugged one shoulder, trying to piece together his thoughts. "Sort of. She's not sick, but a friend of ours is having problems." He turned, and the other man quickly matched the serious look in his eyes. "A friend was raped almost six months ago and is pregnant. She's putting the baby up for adoption, and we were discussing adopting it, since we haven't been able to have our own children yet. But last week we started having second thoughts when asked to sign the paperwork."

The officer's eyes opened wide and he whistled low. "Man, can't be easy... poor woman. No wonder you're so out of it, man. And a baby is a big step... even for a friend. Think you'll actually go through with it, Baker?"

It clicked suddenly. Like the proverbial light bulb, the decision fell into place. In a rush, the anxiety left him; Hank felt more in control than he had for a week. "Yeah. We're going to go through with it." He grinned knowing it was the right thing for everyone.

With a nod, the dark-haired officer smiled widely, sensing his friend's relief. "Well, goody for you, man. Your friend'll be relieved. And I know the wifey-poo'll be ecstatic... you've been wanting kids forever." Dave pulled up to the curb to let Hank out of the car, leaning over to call, "Hey, congratulations, man... tell your wife I said so. And give my love to Diana, too."

Hank nodded, still smiling, and turned to walk up his driveway.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


"Uh huh..." Leaning her backside into the doorframe behind her, balancing on one foot as she repeatedly flexed and relaxed the other, Diana resembled a teenager more than an adult woman. True, her curves were all woman, and her style of dress was normally mature beyond her twenty-three years, but something about the pretty dark-skinned woman bespoke youth and vitality.

With a smile, Diana heard the front door open and nodded though the person on the other side of the phone conversation couldn't possibly see her. She listened for Hank's footsteps, the pain of missing him for a week slowly fading as he came closer. The woman wasn't even self-conscious that she was wearing her oldest sweat suit or that she had bare feet, despite how frumpy it seemed. She was too involved in anticipating her husband's arrival.

A strong arm circling about her waist made the woman sigh. She turned so her back leant against the man rather than the doorframe. Cheerily, enjoying the feel of him nuzzling her neck, Diana bid her friend goodbye and hung up the phone. Putting it on the counter, she turned and slid her arms around Hank's neck. "Hello, lover."

Hank murmured something into her neck, making her flesh tingle. Then, after bestowing a tiny kiss there, the blond man stepped back, smiling. His eyes were tired, his uniform rumpled, and he was the most beautiful sight she could think of. "Hi, love."

Happily, Diana ran a hand down his strong chest, flipping buttons open on the uniform. She met his tired laughter with a smile, but drew her hand away, knowing he'd want to relax before doing anything strenuous, even if it was making love to his wife. Instead, she reached for the phone to move it to its base.

"How was the demonstration, Hank? Catch the jerk?" Diana knew he didn't prefer to talk about his cases off working hours, but that never stopped him from at least telling her if they were solved or not, especially if it was a demonstration case. She moved to get him a soda from the fridge.

With a nod, the blond headed further into the kitchen and settled against the counter, accepting the offering. "Yeah. We caught her. The boy is safe and back home. How was your week?"

"Sheer glorious hell." Diana laughed and headed for the table, leaning over it to clear up the remnants of her memory book project. Shifting papers quickly into piles, she looked over at her husband. "The kids were whiny, the Betterman's dog grumpy, and the adults were sheer torment. But, the scrapbook is coming along."

The woman worked at a local gymnasium; she was a physical trainer for handicapped children. Occasionally she got an assistance dog or some other such therapy-pet in with her humans. It was demanding work but she loved it immensely.

The scrapbook was her release, aside from her normal exercise routines. She was putting together all information and pictures she could find about _The Six_, as they'd taken to calling themselves. She called it _The Roller Coaster of Life_, though most people outside of their group would never know the true reason for the name. Eventually, she hoped to present a finished copy to each of the group.

Hank smiled in sympathy. "How much more did you get done?" He pushed from the counter to look over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her progress.

"Half a year." Diana smiled. "It's not easy trying to find every scrap of information ever published you know. Especially with you getting citations of excellence and the others getting their own names plastered in random, sometimes obscure, magazines." She pulled out the draft book, still tucking away the loose bits, and handed it to him for review.

Watching the man glancing through her work, Diana couldn't believe just how things had turned out. Eight years ago, she'd never have believed she'd have a marriage, a coaching job, and a two-story house without a mortgage in only eight short years. The fact that her marriage was controversial didn't bother her, even if her parents privately had told her they only accepted her _white_ husband for her sake. She loved Hank too much to give him up for anyone else's opinions, even her parents'.

What made everything so odd was the fact that it was _Hank_ who was her husband. In the Realm, if confronted with the news she'd marry someone in her second year of college, she'd have guessed it'd be someone she hadn't yet met. She'd have sworn up and down that Hank would get together with Sheila. But things hadn't quite worked out that way, after all.

When the group had returned from the Realm, Sheila and Hank remained friends. They had dated a bit, but Hank had clearly not fallen in love with the petite redhead the way she'd fallen for him. They'd seemed to grow further apart over the first two years. When he graduated, the two had finally called it quits. Somehow, though, Hank had always found time to hang out with Diana... and that friendship had slowly grown over the months until, four years ago, they'd gotten married. Sheila had been Maid-of-Honor and had seemed genuinely glad for her friends, though Diana still wondered if her best friend hid a broken heart behind her welcoming smiles and soft laughter.

Drawing out of her thoughts, Diana accepted the printed pages back from Hank. "So? What do you think? I managed to get Sheila to confide about some article on Bobby he didn't want seen and had to rearrange the entire year to fit it in."

Hank nodded and slid his arm around her again, resting his chin on her shoulder. "It looks wonderful. Organizing it by year instead of by person really makes it seem like a family book, rather than a who's who book." He kissed her neck then backed away to finish his drink. Hank wasn't an overly demonstrative person, but Diana knew he loved her dearly and would respond to any overtures.

"Oh, did Sheila get a hold of you? She was calling everyone about a possible get-together. I offered Mom's camp for the two weeks."

Diana brushed past her husband with a smile as he confirmed that the call had arrived while he'd been in the airport. She had to stop herself from crowing when he went on to claim he was taking a sabbatical from the force and joining them. It was about time he took a break; he'd been a wreck off and on since the rape. That reminded her...

"Hey, Hank?" She glanced back into the kitchen, wondering at her sudden nervousness and correctly putting it down to anxiety over her question. "Did... did you get to think about it?"

He nodded and stepped forward, running a hand through his hair in his habitual sign of heightened emotion. "Yeah. I... I want to go through with it, Diana. I want to adopt Sheila's baby... Have... have you thought about it?" the last had been added as a hesitant after-thought, as if Hank were afraid he was pressuring Diana into something.

For an answer, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him soundly, letting her fingers finish what they'd started earlier.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


With a gentle smile, Sheila hung up the phone. She had recognized her best friend's ending distraction; Hank must have gotten home. The petite redhead couldn't help the surge of happiness she felt for Diana.

True, Hank had been her first love, just as he'd been Diana's final one. When they'd first returned from the Realm, everything had been emotionally confusing, once more going back to three years younger but with all the wisdom and knowledge of their time in that place intact. Sheila had been so confused and overwhelmed that she'd distanced herself instantly from Hank, trying to fit in to what seemed to be expected of her by those who hadn't been there. When she'd finally figured things out it was too late; Hank had grown further away from her, closer to Diana. In the end, at the wedding, Sheila had come to the realization that she wasn't heartbroken. Her love had stemmed from reliance and hero-worship, and it had settled into deep friendship... but nothing more.

Sometimes, though, she couldn't help but wonder what might have been.

Shaking herself, Sheila flipped through the address book before her. She glanced over crossed and re-crossed entries of addresses and phone numbers, which had continually changed over the last five months. Finally, she found the first clear one and sighed, a soft, almost eager, smile once again lighting her face. Lifting the phone, the pretty redhead began dialing the long distance number. As she listened to the voice on the other side put her on hold, Sheila found herself wandering back to that terrifying night five months ago.

She hadn't been feeling well for a time, tired and listless. Any kind of food made her nauseous, too. Added to the fact that she was jumpy and weepy from the... incident... a month previously, and Sheila was a wreck.

She'd never have even considered it in other circumstances, never in a million years believed herself capable of such thoughts. But one lonely night, in the creeping, stifling darkness, Sheila went out walking. True, taking a midnight stroll was nothing so bad. Sheila, however, had taken her stroll down the middle of the passing lane of the interstate.

If asked, she'd have told people she didn't know why she'd done such a stupid thing. Maybe it was because she felt certain no one would hit her, even going sixty miles an hour or more. Perhaps it was because death held no true fear for her; she'd often faced it in the Realm. Most likely, though, it was because she had believed the world, especially her friends, would be better off without the burden of meek little Sheila O'Neil. The young woman felt that the grief of her death would pass and the others would feel relief after the initial shock wore off. After all, what place did she have in the world? What good was she? Hell, even in the Realm, all she could do was turn invisible and watch her friends fight the real battles. That night, something had sunk her lower than any other time... including the night she had been... attacked.

She drove her car up the entrance ramp, parked on the shoulder, crossed over the median to the city-bound lanes, and started calmly walking.

If it had been a little earlier, she'd have been caught in a rush of people going home from the bars. If she'd gone a little later, Saturday morning work traffic would have met her. For some strange twist of fate, Sheila had unwittingly picked that brief hour when the busiest road in the area was deathly quiet.

Only one car traversed its inky pavement. She had heard the car, naturally, but didn't move out of the way. Rather, dressed hauntingly in her long, pale blue nightgown, the twenty-one year old continued her slow wandering, like an eerie phantom from a haunting folk legend.

Seeing her, the driver skidded his Mazarati, swerving to avoid the seemingly unfazed woman. Crossing the grassy median, feeling the undercarriage scrape over cement borders, he managed to get the fancy, expensive foreign car to stop... before it could hit the thick metal guard rails that lined the speedway.

Something in Sheila clicked through her haze of despair. She hadn't wanted to hurt anyone else. A need, as primal to the caring woman as breathing, urged her to check on the unfortunate driver. Sheila turned her steps towards the idling sports car.

"What the hell do you think you're doing lady?!" The man had only taken a moment to collect himself before sliding from his low-slung vehicle to shout at the woman. "You could have been killed! I could have been killed! You... you could have seriously damaged my father's car!" He moved towards her determinedly as he ranted, something in his words catching the redhead's attention.

"Er... Eric?"

The dark-haired twenty-three year old did an amazing double-take, almost comical in his expression and mannerisms. "What the hell? Sheila?" He turned his angry stride to a sprint, catching her just as she fell into a dead faint.

The sound of someone picking up the receiver pulled Sheila out of her memories, and the warmth was genuine for the friend who'd helped her through her very darkest of moments.

"Hello, Eric."

~~* ~~* ~~*  


"Ah, hello, Sunshine of my Existence." Eric couldn't help smiling at the voice on the other side. She never failed to call him every day, as he'd requested, even though he was in a new city every two or three days.

"Sunshine of your... Eric! You know, as well as I do, that you're just teasing me."

He smiled wider at the delight he heard in her voice. Sheila knew his flirting was meant to keep her cheerful, and she took it for such; it was his way of saying that she certainly was *not* a burden on her friends... especially him. He always made time for her call, even if he had to break during a board meeting to do so. To refuse even one... well, he couldn't stand the thought of what might happen to one of the few people in the entire world he cared about. He could even be in the middle of open-heart surgery, or such, and he'd make sure to take her call.

"So, how's Sheila?" He laughed as she launched into an eager and very descriptive narrative of her life since they'd last spoken. Trust Sheila to turn twenty-four hours into a novel. He didn't mind, though. Eric Montgomery had no pressing appointments scheduled at the moment. In fact, he'd been on the way to the hotel when his secretary had transferred the call to his private phone. Besides, her daily calls made him feel somehow special.

When the bubbly woman paused for breath, Eric jumped in with another question. "Still doing your counseling?" He could well remember that day only five months ago.

He'd been driving home from the office, half-asleep because he had stayed hours after the board meeting to tie up the loose ends of the deal. Suddenly, on a barren stretch of interstate, a ghost appeared, sending him instinctively heading for the shelter of the shoulder... across the median. When he'd gotten out of his dad's car and recognized Sheila O'Neil as the gliding night stalker, he'd been furious. Then she'd passed out in his arms and he'd had no choice but to drive her to the nearest hospital.

Eric had told the night staff who he was and that Sheila was his girlfriend, a bald-faced lie but it had worked to get him the information he needed; they had said they recognized her as the woman who'd been brutally raped near the mall a month before. The news had shocked Eric to the core. He'd double-checked with them to be certain it really had been Sheila, and they'd confirmed with her medical records.

Then the results of the tests they'd run had come in and the night nurse claimed that Sheila was pregnant. Recalling that her birthday, something she inexplicably dreaded every year, was the next day, Eric came to a slow understanding. Sheila had not been insanely sleep walking... she'd been trying to suicide.

Using every trick he'd ever learned while in the Realm, and while working for his dad since, the young business executive had confronted her in the cubicle of the emergency room. He was gruff and demanding, getting the entire story from her while ruthlessly ignoring her tears. Then, he reacted as if she were a junior partner he had to deal with but had no right to terminate; he'd declared that if she refused to take care of herself, he'd do it for her.

That had startled both of them, really, but Eric pridefully refused to back down from his ultimatum. He had basically ordered her into rape counseling, as well as to inform _The Six_ about the rape... or he would; although he hadn't made her confide her suicide attempt to the others. She had cried, God how that still ripped at his heart, but finally gave in to him. Then, he had made a final demand; he wanted her to call him every day, no matter what, and talk to him.

As Sheila's voice trailed off again, Eric shook off the dark memory. "Have Hank and Diana decided what they're doing yet?" He had been the one to suggest asking Diana's help in placing the infant for adoption once it was born. Sheila, still raw from her depression, hadn't wanted to bother her best friend. She had given in to him, as she did for pretty much anything the last five months.

"No, but it's only been a week since they asked to rethink it, and Hank was out of town. I... I..." the voice fell silent, then slowly spoke, choking back a sob. "Eric, what if they don't want the baby after all? What'll I do?"

Eric felt his heart wrench at the misery in his friend's voice. He'd never been very good at these _wisdom_ or _emotion_ things; that was Hank. Sometimes he caught himself wondering why Hank had ever let her go. For now, however, he, Eric, was the one she was turning to, and that sure beat the solution she'd come up with for her problems.

"Calm down, Sunshine." He absently used his teasing nickname for her. "If they can't take the baby, trust me, I'll find the best home that money can scout up." It was a natural habit to involve his fortune in any problem, and he found himself having to remember to add reassurances in case she misunderstood. "I'll use detectives and social workers and anyone we can think of to investigate whichever family steps forward. This baby will have the best parents in the world, Sheila."

She took a deep breath and appeared to be trying to smile. "All... all right, Eric... God! How did I ever get a friend like you? I don't deserve..."

He cut her off, "No!" The car was pulling up to the hotel, and Eric knew he'd soon be surrounded by people, making this conversation all the more difficult for him. "Sheila, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't deserve *you*. I was such a jerk as a kid, and you still hang out with me. You give me a reason to spend this money I'm accumulating... I have no one else who wants that job. And you know me, spending money is lifeblood to Eric Montgomery." Her giggle had relief washing over him. He slid from the limousine, nodding briefly to the driver, and headed into the huge lobby. "Get it straight, Sunshine. You... are... important... to... me." Having stressed every word, Eric hoped this time that he'd managed to make her understand.

He'd been in counseling with her as often as he was in town, which was very rarely just now, and had been told that she needed her importance reaffirmed regularly. He had been instructed to make her know how valuable and loved she was, how she wasn't a burden. And, he'd been informed that eventually, if told enough, she should pull out of this depressive slump... though it might be a few months after the birth due to a condition called postpartum depression, which they thought might set in on the young woman.

Ignoring the valet who came towards him, Eric headed into the private elevator to arrive shortly at his penthouse suite, no business accommodations for the only son of Richard Montgomery. Inside, he pulled out the still mostly packed suitcase and lay it on the bed, ear still pressed to his cell phone. "Hey, Sheila... did the others agree to that reunion I suggested?" He'd be back in town that night and wanted to see the others in the brief vacation he'd allotted himself. It'd been years since they'd managed to actually come together as a group.

"Yes." Sheila sounded like she was smiling once more. "Or, most have. I didn't call Presto... uh... Andrew yet, but the others agreed. Well, except Hank, but he was going to check with the precinct and Diana first. Diana even volunteered her mother's house out at the camp so there won't be interruptions. And..."

Eric listened to her babbling with half an ear, throwing his toiletry items into the suitcase. Looking around one last time, he was certain there was nothing forgotten. With a vague "Uh huh," the brunette closed his bag and headed for the elevator, gesturing the porter on duty to get the case for him. If he hurried, he could actually switch to an earlier flight, with a bit of money and influence naturally.

Finally, Sheila fell silent and Eric threw in a hurried question. "Want me to call the clown?" "Eric Montgomery!" She actually sounded angry, which made the man grin. "Andrew is not a clown; he's your best friend! I can't believe..." and she was off again, not that Eric minded.

Once inside the limousine, which had of course been pulled around for him, he settled back and waited for her tirade to die down. At the silence on the other side, he started to speak, but was interrupted suddenly by a quiet, "Please call him? I know he'd love to hear from you." Eric only had enough time to agree before Sheila hung up the phone. With a chuckle, he dialed the long familiar number.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


With a sigh, Andrew Preston hung up the phone and let his mind wander in a daydream. It would be good to see the old gang once more. He hadn't had a real vacation, or reunion, in the five years since graduation. University kept him overly busy it seemed. Of course, he also had his family to keep him occupied.

With a start, he felt as if something menacing was watching him. He reached for a nonexistent hat instinctively, a habit he'd never given up, despite the years out of the Realm. To cover his slip, Andrew ran his hand through his auburn hair, turning to stare right into the disapproving eyes of the Dean.

"Uh... sir?" The only good thing he could think of at the moment was that his voice didn't crack. Of course, it hadn't for years, but Andrew was still self-conscious enough to expect it. The only people he really felt comfortable around, in fact, were his family and _The Six_. "Uh... how may I help you, sir?"

"Your students have been waiting in the hall while you've chatted on the phone, Mr. Preston."

The disapproval in the man's tone was quite apparent and it made the twenty-one year old assistant professor gulp, Adam's apple bobbing. He nodded and hurried past the solid man without a word, opening the door to his annoyed fellow students. The main instructor was out sick that day and already Andrew had messed up by accepting a personal call between classes. This put his own head on the line.

It hadn't been easy to get the University to accept him at the age of sixteen. He'd graduated, but the administration staff tested him twice through and asked more questions than any other student had dreamed of answering. Finally, he'd been allowed, but on the condition that they would watch to make sure he worked like a real student, not acted like some kid on a free ride. Andrew had worked hard, too, trying to get a degree in education while doubling in theology and anthropology. And this semester he'd been allowed to become assistant professor to one of the masters, all the while being saddled with a thesis paper he had little time to work on. All of that hard work and struggle, however, could be over in the blink of an eye if the staff thought he was taking advantage.

Ignoring the Dean, knowing the best defense was to show his capability, Andrew launched into the day's lecture. He fell into the rhythm quickly and was genuinely unaware when the man left the room. Instead, he was enjoying imparting his hard-won knowledge to the eager minds of the freshmen.

As the class wound on, and he got lost in the question and answer session at the end, the personal call from his best friend, Eric, was nearly forgotten. He'd been surprised and pleased to hear from the globetrotting business executive. It was always so hard to figure out where the man would be, that when he'd offered a chance for them to get together for a couple of weeks, Andrew had jumped at it.

Watching the students file out, some still muttering about learning from a baby-faced guy with no style in clothes, the auburn-haired man shrugged and picked up his book bag. He flipped open his Star Trek-type cell phone and started dialing with only his thumb. Putting it against his ear, he listened for the tell-a-tale click that signaled he'd gotten connected. As he waited, Andrew nodded absently to the different people in the halls, students and staff alike.

At the sound of a teenaged voice on the line, he couldn't help but smile. "Hey. I've gotta go to the library to work on the thesis. What's for dinner?" Wincing as it sounded he didn't care about anything else, the man stepped up to his battered old Pinto.

"Uh... pizza?" There was genuine hope in the youthful voice.

With a laugh, Andrew shook his head and teased, "You and your pizza! You'll turn into a pizza, girl! Is your sister home?"

The voice of the seventeen-year-old was merry as she claimed "Nope." Then she launched into an enthusiastic tale about some goofy boy at school. Finally, she asked, "How late? She'll wanna know, Presto."

Andrew rolled his eyes. Only members of _The Six_, which didn't actually consist of only six members, and James Whittaker, the pain in the butt who lived next door, still called him by that adolescent nickname. He'd managed to get past it upon graduating High School. "Sixish?"

"You asking me? How am I to know when you come in before you do?" The girl was indignant; the adult could just imagine the flash of annoyance in her odd-colored eyes. "If you want to know the future, ask someone else. I do not do prophecies... only mind reading."

He broke into joyful laughter, fumbling his car open and ditching the pack in the back seat. Sliding in, managing to fasten the belt with one hand, Andrew started the car and chugged off campus grounds into the afternoon traffic of the city. He always delighted in these brief conversations with his wife's foster sister. The girl was a wonderful mix of eager sweetness and defiant pride; oh, he didn't envy the man who finally captured that free spirit.

"Okay... I'll be home at six, on the dot. But not a second sooner, and tell your sister to cook something. Have pizza another night." He listened to her wheedle, but grinned and inserted, "Nope... something else. And we're going on a reunion vacation to Diana's camp for two weeks. More about that at dinner. See you later, Uni." Then he hung up the phone and began to whistle off tune as he took the exit ramp towards the municipal library. 

~~* ~~* ~~*  


With a snort, Uni replaced the princess phone in its stand. She shrugged, not really in the mood for pizza anyway, and headed for the kitchen, wondering if she could sway her foster sister into something remotely edible. The woman had an uncanny knack for trying the oddest recipes, and the teen just didn't feel up to guessing what was in her dinner... not that it was ever truly horrendous.

A knock on the door made her jump and the pretty redhead whirled around, hand flying to her chest in an age-old indication of her fright. On the other side stood the boy she'd been telling Presto about. He was cute, if a little on the dim side, but a major jerk... the stereotypical jock in fact. Shaking her head, sighing softly to herself, Uni doubled back and opened the screen door.

Leaning on the doorframe, she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, not letting him over the threshold, per house rules, thank goodness. "Hey... what do you want, Whittaker?" She hadn't told Presto that the boy who'd been hitting on her was their hated next door neighbor.

"Just wanna go out with you, Unity. You gotta say 'yes' sometime. C'mon. You're a cheerleader, right, so you gotta go out with me." The boy grinned as if he'd said the most welcome thing in the world. He was so smug it was annoying... and smug in a way far different from Eric Montgomery.

"Oh, I get it now." She nodded as if she was as much a bubble head as his usual girlfriends, mentally storing away the tidbit that he still thought her a cheerleader. "And then I have to sleep with you during homecoming." She watched in disgust as his face lit up in lustful anticipation. God how these typical immature High Schoolers disgusted her.

Uni slipped backwards into the house and slammed the door in his face for an answer. As it was a screen door, it ripped horribly. _Great, now Presto is going to make me pay for that._ It added to her annoyance with the jerk on the porch, who merely looked at her blankly instead of taking the hint.

With a shrug, the graduating senior turned her back on the oaf and headed towards the kitchen once more, deciding to let her foster sister find him on the porch. She should have told Presto about the creep's advances, instead of describing his stupidity in school as if she'd been fond of him. But that was apparently her curse; after she was done being annoyed, she couldn't help but look on the funny side of every encounter, no matter who it was with.

"Hey, Unity... Friday, right?"

She groaned, rolled her eyes, and let the kitchen door slam as it shut.

Opening the fridge, the teen canvassed what was available for dinner preparations. There wasn't much, actually. That meant they had to shop... or order out. Maybe she could order Chinese without annoying her guardian? He liked foreign food. Happily, Uni reached for the phone, preparing to make good on her decision, when she heard a quiet voice from the front of the house.

"What on Earth is this? James Whittaker Junior, you better have a very good reason for ripping out my screen door."

The voice was calm, as it always was, and instantly Uni felt bad for distressing her foster sister. She headed for the front of the house to try to make peace, but the boy's words merely caused her to become indignant once more.

"Oh, Hiya Ms. Preston. Unity and me were flirting around and got a bit rough, if you get my meaning, heh heh." The leer in his voice, and his choice of innuendo, made it sound like Uni had practically been ripping his clothes off out there! The last vestiges of her amusement fled and she sprinted out to confront the teen, ignoring the willowy redhead next to him.

"Why you disgusting, baboon-faced... Orc!" She flung herself at the boy, hands curled into hard fists. After a couple of quick jabs, she took him off guard by letting fly a kick right to his most favorite area. As he hit the ground, she became quickly aware of the disapproval from the woman, her satisfaction draining away as quickly as the anger had risen previously.

"That was uncalled for, Uni. Go to your room."

Knowing better than to try to protest, Uni turned around and headed upstairs, shame making her face flame brighter than her hair. She was fully aware of the soothing voice of her foster sister as the young woman tended the Whittaker boy's ego and injuries. Sometimes life just wasn't fair! And she hadn't even gotten to mention that they were finally going to see the rest of _The Six_ on a real vacation. She sighed and shut the bedroom door, making a mental note to tell Varla later about the _no pizza_ order from Presto.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Kneeling next to the injured teenager, 'Valeria' Varla Preston ran gentle hands over the boy. She didn't come near his pelvis, however, knowing just how precarious her word would be against his if he chose to say she'd molested him on the porch. After all, she was considered a bit... fruity... in the neighborhood, and Jimmy Whittaker was the son of a well-liked citizen, even if the family was comprised of arrogant jerks, right down to their stuck up poodle. Flipping her long red hair over her slender shoulder, the medical student continued to speak soft, soothing words to the angry, hurt child.

Of course, sixteen was hardly a child, nor was it much younger than her own twenty-two years, but Varla couldn't help seeing him as the same little boy who'd terrorized them for the last seven years. This was the child who'd harassed her husband, then boyfriend, daily at school, and had hit on her _sister_, Uni, every chance he got. Naturally he had grown up, but it still seemed like he was the obnoxious ten-year-old she'd met when she'd first arrived on Eric's doorstep... seven long years ago.

That had been a terrifying time for her. In the Realm utter chaos reigned as small pockets of evil rose up to try to fill the void left when Venger had renounced his evil ways. Orcs and other foul beasts had over-run any hamlet or town they could pillage, and Varla's had been no exception. The crops, so long hidden by her forced illusions, were genuinely destroyed, the wells fouled, as waves of disaster overtook the tiny village.

And then her parents had been killed.

With no where else to turn to, Varla had run. She'd taken to hiding from any signs of habitations, living off the land as best she could or using her illusions to disguise herself so she might beg for much needed food. It was many months before she'd fallen ill and unconscious near a winter-sleeping valley.

Upon waking, she noticed that there was a small unicorn standing mournfully looking at her. She'd had no real time to get to know Uni, the faithful companion to the _Children of Power_, but somehow she recognized the little foal right away. It turned out later that Varla had stumbled onto the remnants of the Valley of the Unicorns, another place ravaged by the evil uprising; Uni, in fact, had been the only survivor there.

The two had thrown their lot in together and began a journey to find either of the good mages who had once ruled the Realm. It hadn't taken too long, which was fortunate since Varla was still weak from her illness. Upon meeting with the now good Venger, she had learned that there was a place for her and the unicorn in another world... a world of chaos, but not such as they found in the Realm. He went on to say that Uni would fit in better as a human, but she could merely be turned into a regular horse if she preferred. After a short discussion, somehow Varla understanding most of what Uni tried to relay, they decided to take his offer and leave the world they'd both known since birth. After all, their families and friends were gone; there was nothing left for them.

That was when he'd opened a portal and sent them through. The pair had been shaken and confused and wet... having landed in a decorative pond on a vast estate. It had wondrously turned out to belong to one of the Children of Power: Eric Montgomery, the Cavalier. He had helped them that day and within a few more days had convinced another of _The Six_, Presto, to take them in... his father didn't like having young girls in the house.

Reuniting with Presto had been beyond her wildest dreams, and Varla jumped at the chance to go with him. She'd even joined him in school, getting tutoring at night, until they graduated the same year from High School; they hadn't been in the same classes, but that hadn't bothered either of them.

In order to help the newly transformed Uni fit in, she had been kept out of school that first year, learning privately with Presto and Varla. Then, when she was thirteen, by human standards, they'd let her test to go to school. Somehow, despite poor marks in history, the former unicorn leaped ahead, back into her own 'age group'. Presto had thought it best to have her enrolled in a private school so there were less students to distract her and more one-on-one attention from the teachers. Eric had agreed and paid the tuition, and continued to pay Varla's college tuition, as well. The only drawback was that Jimmy Whittaker had also transferred into that private school, the same year as Uni had.

Sitting back on her heels, Varla nodded to the teenager. "You'll be fine, James. Please go home and rest; do not strain yourself." She stood and turned to look at the ripped screen and sighed. Uni had probably let loose her temper and destroyed it by flinging the boy through it or something equally obnoxious. She'd have to talk to her about that... again. The sound of Jimmy skulking off allowed her to relax, and she slipped inside and up the stairs.

"Uni..." Varla glanced into the bedroom, noting the shamefaced teen on the bed. She sighed and sank down next to her, stroking the girl's glorious red hair. "You have to control yourself. He was offensive, yes, but you were violent. After seven years, I would hope you could stop acting like a wild horse and act like a young lady."

"Varla, I..." the girl looked into the woman's serious gray eyes and sighed, bowing her head once more. "I'll try... but he makes me so angry. Especially when he says such disgusting things."

With a gentle smile, Varla petted the girl's hair and nodded. "He is very offensive. You must be better than he is, though. Don't answer the door if you see him; simply stare through him as if he isn't there, then turn your back. All right?"

The teen merely sighed and nodded dejectedly. Her normal sense of humor quickly took hold though and she raised laughing maroon eyes to her foster sister. "Presto doesn't want pizza tonight and there's not much to experiment with. Want Chinese?" She bounced off the canopied bed and threw a grin at Varla as she rushed into the hall for a phone. "Oh, and he's coming home around six with some news about us seeing the others finally." The grin she flashed was pure delight.

Varla's heart lurched. See the others? After eight years? How would they react to her? Or to Uni's new human form for that matter? The woman stood and followed her husband's ward from the room, letting the teen order food as she worried over the news. Would they be as happy as Eric and Presto had been to see the pair? _Of course they will,_ Varla reassured herself then headed down to try to repair the front door.

As she stepped onto the porch with the toolbox Presto kept but rarely used, she sighed and shook her head. It would take some fixing to straighten the bent frame and repair that screen. It dangled from two sides, looking as if someone had peeled it back for some odd reason. The redhead squatted and opened the box, wondering just which tool was going to help her fix the problem before six o'clock.

A voice startled her out of her reverie and the medical student whirled around, gray eyes widening. There, coming up the walkway, was a black-haired teen with bright blue eyes and a cheery smile. A large sheepdog loped at her side. "Name's Terri. Need help?"

The woman grinned at the unknown girl and nodded enthusiastically.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Terri smiled at the exotic-looking redhead and knelt on the porch to check out the screen door. Freddie, her old dog, flopped into the neatly trimmed grass, tongue lolling from his energetic jog. The sheepdog was getting entirely too old to be prancing around, but he didn't seem to believe either her or the vet when they told him. As long as he seemed to be happy, the sixteen-year-old was content to let him enjoy his old age in his own way.

"Well, looks like a pretty even mess. You got lucky; the screen only pulled away from its fastenings. If we can find the clips, we can get it back together in no time." She smiled at the woman and wondered about that far-away look in her gray eyes.

"Really? Oh, that's good. I wanted to have it fixed before... Andrew... got home from the library." The woman smiled at her, then suddenly her eyes seemed to focus and she tilted her head. "I'm... Valeria Preston. Thank you... Terri, wasn't it?"

With an almost absent nod, the dark-haired teen agreed readily. "Yup, Terri Parker." She glanced over the screen once more and turned a friendly grin to Valeria. "We can bend this back easily with a hammer and a cloth, to protect the paint from chips." And, suiting actions to words, she dug into the open toolbox and pulled out an old, stained rag and a hammer. She quickly went to work, chatting about this and that.

It didn't take long to finish the job, find the clips, and reattach the screen to the door. When finished, Terri stood and dusted her hands on her jeans. "So, new in town, Valeria?" She turned once more to the pretty woman, catching a glimpse of an equally pretty red-haired teen talking on a phone in the hallway.

"No." Valeria smiled back. "We've been here about seven years now. I guess none of us have really crossed your path before, though. My sister, Unity, goes to school at the academy... she's about to graduate."

Terri nodded. "I'm a public school girl, myself." Nonchalantly flipping her wrist up, the girl checked her sports watch and grinned wider. "Sorry to cut this short, but I've got a date. Hey," she gave the woman a wave as she started jogging for the road once more, Freddie falling in beside her eagerly, "I'll catch you and Unity some other time, okay? See ya around!" And she was off.

As she headed around the corner, on her way to her best friend's house, the teen couldn't help but chuckle at the last hour she'd spent. She wasn't normally the Good Samaritan type, though she'd never leave someone stuck if she thought she could help. Something about the willowy young woman had drawn her in, though, and she was glad of it. It was nice to meet someone so friendly, and with a sister apparently her own age, so close by. Since the girl went to a private academy, she probably hadn't heard anything derogatory and wouldn't mind befriending the energetic brunette.

Ever since returning from the Realm, Terri had been considered an outcast. No one actually realized that she'd even been gone, but somehow they'd sensed the change in the eight-year-old girl. She'd missed her friends from the Realm terribly, especially Bobby, and had become morose and distant that first day. Upon unexpectedly meeting with Bobby at the end of school, Terri's mood had altered drastically, but so did her reactions to those around her. She began hanging with the older boy and his teenaged friends. This made them think she was stuck up or something, and so she slowly lost any deep contacts with her own age group.

Now, eight years later, she was a junior in High School, a starter on the varsity track team, and pretty popular in a stand-offish kind of way. People always greeted her, but no one really offered to invite her to parties or asked her on dates. Well, no one except her best friend.

They were close, but not romantic, having dated off-and-on throughout school. Neither, in fact, had a steady, but somehow it didn't feel right making their friendship anything more. Both were content to merely go out on occasion and retain their freedom from serious ties. Terri felt she preferred it that way.

Turning up the drive to the O'Neil house, Terri waved to the pretty blonde woman washing the windows. She stopped jogging, Freddie again flopping in a tired pant, and finished approaching at a walk. "Hey, Mrs. O'Neil... is Bobby home?"

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Inside the house, Bobby heard his friend's voice and grinned widely. He tossed the magazine he'd been perusing onto the sofa, jumping to his feet to head outside. "Hey, Terr," he called as he trotted down the steps to join the two females.

The senior was good-looking in a stocky, athletic sense. His blond hair was sun-streaked, the back too long for the new ninety's look, and his clothes were the same familiar jeans and polo shirt style he'd favored since the early eighty's. In fact, if Bobby hadn't been so popular in school, he could have been a serious outcast for what the other teens considered his old-fashioned tastes.

He didn't care. Bobby O'Neil was a pretty earthy sort, despite a quick temper he was still learning to control. He befriended everyone, favored only *The Six*, and made himself available for the oddest problems. People liked the blue-eyed teen, and he liked people. For the entire year, in fact, the other seniors at the public High School had been repeatedly pushing him to accept invitations to their graduation parties: invitations he'd steadily, but merrily refused.

"So, have you heard the news?" He grabbed the brunette's arm and led her around the side of the house to talk a bit more privately. The dog, he noted, was willing to simply keep his mom company. "Sheila's been asking everyone to get together day after tomorrow at Diana's place by the lake."

"Everyone?" the girl seemed amused and eager, and Bobby nodded happily.

"Yeah, she's managed to get everyone to agree, I think. Cool, huh? We'll finally actually be together as a group again... all seven of us." He stretched, T-shirt hitching over his muscled stomach as he pulled his arms up and back. Letting himself relax once more, the seventeen-year-old tilted his head at the mischief in Terri's eyes. "What?"

She grinned at him and shrugged one shoulder. "Seven? Bobby, you know Presto's married, even if no one was invited to the wedding. So there'll be at least eight, unless he doesn't bring her. And we have no clue if Eric's seeing anyone." The girl crossed her arms, waiting for his inevitable come-back.

He didn't disappoint. "So, we hog tie Eric's date and throw her in the car with Presto's wife and tell the woman to get the girl to the closest insane asylum for dating such a wacko." They laughed in perfect camaraderie, Bobby leading his long-time best friend through the backdoor and into the kitchen.

After the pair was seated and feasting on the cookies Mrs. O'Neil customarily baked for them as an afternoon snack, Bobby glanced at Terri's happy face. "So," he grinned in his normal sunny manner, "meet any cute guys recently?" It was his way of testing to see if the girl wanted to get closer than they had been willing so far.

"Nope, but I met some drop-dead gorgeous girls."

Bobby dropped the cookie in shock, eyes widening in his broad face. "Wha...?" He blinked, frowning as he caught the sudden smirk on Terri's features, and shook his head, letting himself sag in the chair. "Damn, Terr, do you know how turned on you were getting me?" He flashed his grin to let her know he was merely teasing.

The brunette looked smug as she retrieved his cookie for him. "Yeah, I could tell, you pig. Think I'd share them with you if I _was_ gay?"

He shook his head and accepted the cookie, taking a healthy bite of the peanut butter confection. "Nah. You aren't that nice to me. So, what're your girlfriends like?" He shot her a grin and swiped a cookie from her plate to much laughing protest.

"Pretty and red-haired. One's a married woman; the other's her sister... about our age but goes to private school. They live next to Jimmy. Isn't that around where Presto lives?" Terri stole a cookie in return.

Standing, Bobby shrugged and headed for the fridge. "I think so. I haven't been to Presto's in years, and I never go near Jimmy if I can help it." He bent over, looking in the fridge for something more appealing than milk. Finding some orange juice, he stood once more and turned, drinking a healthy swig straight from the carton. "How'd you meet these girls?"

Terri rolled her eyes. "Bobby, that's disgusting. Get a glass. I helped Valeria fix her porch door. Someone had broken the screen out."

With a grin, Bobby finished off the juice and tossed the container in the sink for washing and recycling. He swaggered over to the teenager at the table, placed a hand on the chair and one in front of her, and leaned over. "Hey, at least I'm not making you drink after me." His leering face was inches from her causing him to miss the hand aiming for his midsection... until it connected, of course, and sent him staggering back. "I shoulda never taught you to fight," he wheezed.

"Serves you right, freak." But Terri was laughing as she pushed from her chair. She patted his cheek as she passed by, ignoring his pretense of pain.

Bobby followed her and shrugged, his habitual grin back in place. He rarely did anything except smile around Terri, though there had been that time five months ago when Sheila had confided that she'd been raped a month previously. He'd gone ballistic, they told him, but he couldn't remember anything after she'd hung up the phone. All he knew was that he'd come around in the hospital with his hands bandaged and his father quietly telling him that he'd be expected to fix the damage to the hallway. Bobby hadn't argued. He merely asked to get a part-time job at the local precinct and paid for fixing the walls and furniture. Hank had been a really steadying influence on him as he'd dealt with the anger and hurt over Sheila.

Tagging along behind Terri at that moment, however, thoughts of cold January nights in the drafty file room at the police station, and tiring spring days helping to repair his destruction, were far from the teen's mind. Also far from his mind was the horror and anger caused by the attack to his beloved sister; he'd learn how to deal with that by accompanying her to rape counseling a few times when she'd asked him to. However, what wasn't far from his mind was the curiosity over the fate of Sheila's unborn child.

"Yo, Terr, think Hank and Diana will take the baby after all?" He kept smiling, but mentally kicked himself as he realized his voice sounded worried. Heck, he shouldn't be so over-protective. His sister was dealing well with the situation and even claimed that a special friend was helping her with everything, though she hadn't told anyone who it was; he privately thought it was Diana, as the girls had been best friends since the early days in the Realm.

Terri's voice called back in amusement, "How should I know? Hank should be back in town; why don't you call him and find out?"

"Yeah." Bobby turned and headed for the hallway, grabbing the wall phone. As he dialed the number, the teen couldn't help grinning at the idea that he'd soon be seeing all of his friends back together again, after seven or eight long years. Hearing the sleepy voice on the other side, Bobby grinned wider. "Hey, Hank, how's it going?"

Continued in Chapter Two: Full Moon


	2. Full Moon

Title: Full Moon

Series: Full Circle 2/ 4

Rating: PG-13: Language, Violence, and other sensitive topics** Setting: Earth 1991**

Characters & Ages: Bobby- 17, Diana- 23, Eric- 23, Hank- 24, Presto- 21, Sheila- 22, Terri- 16, Varla- 22, Uni-17, James Sr. - 42

Note: Presto's Pinto is an homage to my Uncle Joe, who died in 1988 just before my senior year of High School. One of the very first driving lessons I ever had is described in the pages below and resulted in his never riding with me again, though neither of us, nor the passenger in the back, had been injured in the weird, inadvertent stunt.

Second Note: _The Dukes of Hazard_ was a show on the air about the same years as _Dungeons and Dragons_, in fact, and featured a couple of men doing stunt driving while trying to escape a corrupt law enforcement team, among other 'red neck' themes. The Persian Gulf War mentioned herein is the one which took place in 1990 - 1991, when Iraq invaded Kuwait and America intervened. Also, one might note in the previous chapter the very lax security at the airport, as security didn't get extremely tight until after September 11, 2001. Please take these facts into consideration while reading. Thank you.

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

* * *

Finally, they arrived at the house and slid from the Jeep, leaving it idling. Hank checked the vehicle, eyeing water and mud markings and calculating how the road would effect the others due to arrive soon. Diana, on the other hand, unlocked the one-story house and took a quick run-through of the building. Finally, the two slid back into their Jeep.

Hank turned in the driver's seat to look at Diana. "Well, they're traversable, barely. If any of them are driving a small car, however, they might get stuck. We may need to give someone a ride to the camp. Does Sheila still drive that Bug?"

The pretty dark-skinned woman nodded, smiling despite the poor condition of the rain-washed road. The house she'd borrowed from her mother for two weeks was in fine condition and well stocked. It was only the rutted lane that gave them pause. "I think so. If we turn around and greet them at the end of the road, we should be able to judge if they'll need a lift. It shouldn't be too much of a problem with a couple days of sunshine." She turned a practiced eye towards the leaden sky and sighed.

"Right. When did you say the others were supposed to be heading out?" Hank turned further in his seat to back the Jeep out of the tree-lined clearing in front of the house. He steadied the sturdy vehicle back onto the weather-damaged road and didn't look at his wife as he drove.

Diana tilted her head, thinking. "About five o'clock... but that means they could arrive any time. It's only a couple of hours from the city." Pausing for a moment, the woman turned in her seat to check on their own supplies. "Should we drop things off in case we need to transfer someone into the Jeep, Hank?"

He smiled and shrugged one shoulder as he concentrated on the jarring road, saying "Might be a good idea, but I'd feel better meeting them before they attempted this nightmare, especially with Sheila six months along. I don't want her worrying." With a soft smile, he felt his wife slip her hand onto his knee and leave it there.

"Good idea, Oh Leader." The pair laughed at their own private joke, eager to see the other friends who would have understood it, too. She turned her face to watch the pretty scenery as the slow moving vehicle rambled on. Trees and mountains as far as the eye could see had Diana sighing in delight. "I'm glad Sheila suggested this get-together, Hank. It'll be especially nice if Eric could show. I haven't seen him for a good three years... ever since he started globe-trotting for his father."

The blond in the driver's seat nodded and glanced at his wife then back to the road. "I haven't seen Presto in ages, either. He failed to invite anyone to his wedding." Hank couldn't help still feeling a bit left out about that; after all, he'd invited everyone to his own wedding, even if only the O'Neils had made it... and they had been in the wedding party. "Do you know if he's bringing his wife? Or if he even told us her name?"

"Valeria." Diana's answer had been very prompt. She tore her eyes from the pretty view and smiled at her husband. "And he said he's bringing her and her sister, but he wouldn't say anything more." After a moment, Diana moved her hand upwards, squeezed Hank's thigh, and softly said, "And he got married in Las Vegas, Hank."

Surprise washed over the man's features, then he broke into a laugh. "Is that what happened?" Suddenly, two years of petty bitterness seemed to wash away and he shook his head ruefully. "I can't believe I got so upset..." the blond quickly shut his mouth, too used to bottling up his personal feelings to easily let them out, even with the woman he loved.

She laughed softly. "Yeah, I know. I was angry with him, too. I got the announcement and called in a fury that he would care so little for us that he'd not invite us. When he told me, sounding extremely happy, Hank, that he'd eloped to Las Vegas with Valeria, I couldn't stay angry. He sounded so very happy... and it was the kind of stunt I think he needed to pull to relax a bit before going back to university." Diana stretched, removing her hand temporarily then replacing it as she settled once more. "It couldn't be easy to start such intense work at sixteen, even for a genius like Presto."

"Hmm." Hank nodded his agreement; however, his attention was taken by the severely rutted, muddy road.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


"Thanks, Mom, and I promise: not a scratch!" Bobby brandished the keys in one hand as he pulled a varsity jacket on over the other arm. With a wide grin for Terri, the seventeen-year-old jumped the three porch steps and headed to the Station Wagon parked behind his father's sedan.

Opening the door, still grinning as the black-haired girl imitated him in smiling and entering the large, blue vehicle, the blond boy nodded. "They said I could borrow mom's car for the trip." With that, Bobby slid happily behind the wheel and sighed in pure bliss. "I knew packing it first would work."

Terri shook her head, still smiling. "You're incorrigible, Bobby."

"Yeah, but smart, Terr." He guided the car into the flow of traffic and started flipping through radio channels. "Sheila's coming up a little later, I think, and Hank and Diana went on ahead to check on the house. They said they'd come back to the end of the road to wave on anyone who can't find it." Settling on an Eighty's station, the blond smiled and checked his rearview mirror. "Presto knows to look for this car, so he should be following us up... if he managed to leave on time. No clue if he's bringing his wife, though."

Terri turned in her seat, still trying to get the seatbelt fastened, despite having been told it might not work properly. "You told him to look for the Station Wagon? But, Bobby, you had no idea we'd even be allowed to borrow the car. What if..." Her friend's snort cut the girl off.

"Didn't happen, so stop worrying... Sheila." He threw a wide grin at the exasperated girl, teasing her with his sister, Sheila's, infamous habit of worrying over nothing. "And I have no idea if Eric's going to make it to this reunion thing." Suddenly he let out a whoop, startling his companion. "This promises to be better than any graduation party I could have gone to, though."

The sixteen-year-old felt her friend's infectious enthusiasm, but still couldn't help a slight niggling apprehension. Something felt... off. With a determined shake of her head and a forced smile, Terri decided she was thinking things would go badly because the entire reunion might get rained on... the weather wasn't supposed to stay clear and warm, especially in the mountains.

The winter storms had lasted well into April, forcing spring to come late to the Northeast. As a result, despite the city temperatures of high seventies, the mountains were still chilly for mid-June. Terri absently wondered if there would still be snow in some of the more shaded areas of the camp they were going to. A smile tugged at her lips; snow in June was a rather amusing thought.

"Holy mobsters, Batman, I think the Riddler's on our tail!"

Bobby's laughing voice drew Terri from her reminisces and she tossed him a puzzled frown. "What are you talking about?" She glanced behind her, more as reflex than to play along, and noticed a battered yellow Pinto following them. With a curious look, she turned to her best friend.

He grinned and merely shrugged, hands still steady on the wheel. "That's Presto's hunk of junk, I'm sure of it. There's a goofy looking redhead at the wheel, too. Can you see if he's alone? I can't get a good look with all this traffic." Bobby glanced over his left shoulder to ease into the passing lane.

The teenaged girl gave up on the uncooperative belt to turn and stare at the car behind them. It wasn't easy to make out much as that driver was keeping a safe distance from them, but it did move to the passing lane in imitation of the Station Wagon. Finally, Terri turned around and shrugged. "There's two or three people in there... unless the backseat contains a large dog, Bobby; it's restless enough. But I didn't see any of them wearing glasses." Of course, Presto could be wearing contacts, but Terri didn't add that obvious thought.

Her friend chuckled. "Well, not only are we being followed by the stupidest car in town, but it's being navigated by a blind man with a seeing-eye-dog in the back. Think we'll get there in one piece? Damn!"

The sky had opened in a torrential downpour, instantly forcing dozens of rush hour drivers to resort to full windshield wiper mode. Due to the heavy deluge, the road became just as quickly wet, the oil accumulated from hundreds of cars making it slick. Bobby's smile changed to a look of intense concentration and he slowed the Station Wagon down to avoid any hydroplaning hazard. He flipped on the signal to move back into the regular traffic lane, absently noting that their tail did the same.

As he saw the small car behind them swerve on the oily pavement, Bobby drew in his breath with a hiss. "Keep an eye on that Pinto, Terr. I'm going to pull over in a minute." He managed to slip into the slower traffic on the right, finally, but was thwarted by the fact that there was no shoulder on that stretch of interstate, just the heavy guardrails blocking a sudden drop.

Terri, clutching her seat in fright, watched intently in the side mirror, too afraid to turn in her seat to get a better view. The few seconds she watched their friend trying to control his unsteady vehicle felt like nerve-wracking minutes. Finally, it straightened out and she slumped, throwing an exhausted grin at her friend. "They're back in control, Bobby. Maybe we should just take the next exit and wait out the storm?"

Her only answer was a brief nod from the driver as he continued to watch the rain-soaked cars. The teen wondered if perhaps the near miss on the interstate was what her earlier 'premonition' had been about. She fervently hoped so.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


With a cheerful slam to the old Pinto's trunk, Andrew called out merrily to his two female passengers; "Everything set!" He frowned temporarily as the trunk popped back open. It required two more attempts, and Uni sitting on it, to finally get the worn latch to click. The auburn haired twenty-one-year-old tugged her ponytail and moved around the car. "Thanks, kiddo."

The young redhead laughed as she slid from the small vehicle's miniscule trunk and headed for the back seat, scrambling inside as the man got behind the driver's wheel. "Not a problem, Presto." With a sudden frown, she tried to rearrange her long limbs in the confined quarters.

Varla turned around, belted into the front passenger seat, and made sure Uni was equally belted. "There are snacks in the small cooler, Uni, if you get hungry. Once we're on the road, pass both of us a soda." At the annoyed glare on the teen's face, the young woman laughed. "I know it's cramped, but you have the entire seat, Uni, so stop looking at me like that."

"Yeah, the whole seat, but absolutely no floor space! I can't even put my legs down!" True to her words, the girl had her legs crossed and on the seat, the floor of the vehicle crammed with extra pillows, blankets, and a medium-sized cooler. A smaller cooler sat on the seat next to the seventeen-year-old, as well, limiting her space even more and giving lie to their words about how much room she really had.

Glancing back in his rearview mirror, Andrew gave his ward a fleeting smile, then turned it on his wife, her foster sister. "It's only a couple of... ah! There's the Station Wagon we're supposed to follow. Diana said it was a teal blue with darker spots on the rear door. There can't be any two like it in the entire city!" And, forgetting his earlier attempts to placate the teen, Andrew started following the oddly painted car bound for the city limits.

The man fiddled with the makeshift repairs to the old radio, a screwdriver carefully inserted in the broken dash to provide a connection between two wires, which were a tiny bit too short. He'd been meaning to get that radio repaired, as it was dangerous that way, but hadn't found time or money to do so.

It wasn't long before Uni became frustrated with the set up in the tiny backseat. Without a word, she unfastened her belt and started maneuvering things around, adjusting the pillows and blankets around her while slipping the small cooler onto the floor behind the driver's seat. Finally content she settled back in a more prone position, legs still folded but her body being jolted by soft cushions instead of the hard cooler. She decided not to refasten her belt; it just made trying to get comfortable impossible... and it'd only be a few short hours.

Varla seemed unaware of what her sister was doing in the back seat, instead reaching over to smooth her hand through her husband's auburn bangs. She returned his quick grin and looked ahead at the Station Wagon they had followed into the passing lane. "Did Diana say who was in the Wagon, Presto? It looks like a couple... I was sure you said they owned a Jeep."

The man shrugged and opened his mouth, but was suddenly distracted by the unexpected storm. "Hold on!" was all he said as he felt the Pinto sliding on the slick pavement. He kept golden eyes glued to the traffic around him and signaling that he wanted back in the slower moving lane to the right. Right before they could make it over, however, control of the car pulled from the driver's grasp, hydroplaning. Insanely, a large Park Avenue sped up and passed the spinning car as other vehicles tried to swerve out of the way.

Uni's eyes opened wide in sudden terror and she gripped the pillows around her, trying to lie as flat as possible. Cars were something that had taken her a long time to adjust to when she'd arrived on Earth, and they still made her nervous at times despite driving lessons. It was nerve wracking to merely lie there, not seeing what was going on, but to hear the sounds of traffic and heavy breathing. The former unicorn closed her eyes tightly, praying.

As the young man got the car back under control, Varla let her hand slip from her mouth to her chest. She wanted to touch her husband, to reassure herself, but was afraid of disturbing his intense concentration. Thus, the red-haired woman had to content herself with watching him, instead, silently willing things to remain in control.

Finally, Andrew managed to pull his vehicle into the traffic of the right lane. He let out a nervous laugh, hearing an answering anxious chuckle from the backseat. With a very brief smile for his wife, the university student softly said, "We can always try tomorrow instead, if you'd rather? I think the weather's supposed to be less... surprising."

Varla shook her head and finally put her trembling hand on the man's arm, eyes quickly glancing out of the window then returning to his youthful face. "No. The storm is actually gone now, Presto." She sighed, her trembling lessening. "I'd rather have this trip done so we can laugh about it with the others. Let's just watch for anymore large... puddles... and get there soon." She deliberately was trying to avoid the subject of the car which had nearly caused a worse catastrophe than the sickening spin.

"Yeah, don't want to wind up playing _Dukes of Hazard_ like Uni, huh?"

The nervous quip referred to Andrew's first attempt at trying to teach the teen to drive. She had taken a rather sharp curve at forty-five miles an hour, sending the unsteady little car onto the two right wheels. Her foster sister had subsequently refused to ride with Uni behind the wheel ever again, despite how quickly the younger woman had recovered the road with the Pinto still undamaged.

No one responded to Andrew's joke, though the tension seemed to ease a bit as they continued on their trip. Puzzled, he watched the Station Wagon they'd been following signal a turn-off, but that driver seemed to change his mind, as well. With a shrug, Andrew continued following the mysterious driver towards their mountainous camp retreat.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Checking his watch for what must have been the third time in five minutes, Eric glared impatiently at the empty road. What could be keeping his driver? Belatedly registering the actual time his watch had said, the business executive made a command decision. He would leave a message for his normal driver and hire a temporary one for this trip. He really didn't want to be late to the reunion he, himself, had suggested.

Eric turned and headed into the agency he'd been dropped at when he returned from the airport. He started forcefully bargaining, using his influence in the city to get what he wanted. For a small extra fee, which actually came to a large sum, he was immediately able to get a Park Avenue and a driver for the trip to the camp house. His own driver could come and retrieve him when the vacation ended. The rental company was actually willing to take the message for this favorable client.

He was disgusted but had to accept the situation for what it was. Within two minutes, surprising the man quite a bit, the rental pulled around and the driver got out and opened the rear door for his temporary employer. He was familiar looking, but the businessman merely accepted the fact, without bothering to check the nametag. Eric nodded, slid in, and recorded a margin note about the service in his daily planner. If he was pleased with the rest of this man's performance, he could expect a glowing report... if not, then this man would be lucky to ever drive again. Soon they were on the road, headed out of the city several cars behind a very odd looking Station Wagon and a battered old Pinto which probably should have been retired in the Seventy's.

It didn't take long for Eric to determine that the glowing report would not be coming into being. The fool behind the wheel was riding the passing lane as if he owned the interstate. In fact, when a sudden deluge of rain crashed down around them, Eric could feel the expensive luxury car slipping on the slick roadway. He called out but cut himself off short as he became aware of the Pinto nearby starting into a skid. The executive's heart leapt to his throat at the abject terror he glanced in the redheaded driver's eyes.

Then they were past the spinning man and the chauffeur merely shook his head as if disgusted with the carelessness of other drivers.

Eric's anger instantly surfaced. "Hey, jerk, that guy could have been killed. What were you thinking passing him while he was spinning?" He wanted to add that their own lives had been in danger, but was too angry to speak further. That agency better expect to refund his money, at the very least, and to have his lawyers breathing down their collective necks.

Finally, as his heart eased its hammering, the raven-haired man unfastened his belt and leaned forward, tapping the man on the shoulder and shooting a glare directly to the rearview mirror. "You realize that unless your driving or my sobriety drastically changes in the next few seconds, I will be your very last customer." His voice was low, intensely angry, but nothing like the arrogant whine he'd used back as a teenager. He'd learned in the last few years just which buttons to push and how to push them.

The man's eyes widened and he smoothly pulled to the regular lane, slowing down to just under the speed limit. Apparently the threat to his career had taken root, as he seemed to be very conscientious of what he was doing from then on. It was in completed tense silence, in fact, that they left the interstate a couple of hours later, heading for the back roads and Diana's place.

With a snort of distrust, Eric sat back in his seat and pulled the planner over, making several more notes. He forgot all about his own safety as he realized the man had sped back up, but as there was no real traffic around them, the executive merely ignored it. He gestured towards a gas station and commanded, "Stop. I need a break from your fumbling attempts at bumper cars. We'll get back on the road in ten minutes."

As the younger man slid out of the back seat, not bothering to wait for assistance, he threw the driver a superior look. "I would suggest you study the maps or a driving manual. I want to arrive soon... and in one piece." He headed towards the small rundown building, not caring that it was far from his habitual pit stop. He needed a place to wind down from the harrowing interstate drive he'd had to live through.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Nervously, Sheila put her last bag in the back seat of the tiny Volkswagen Beetle. Soon, in just a few hours, she would be seeing everyone again. True, she'd actually kept in touch with all of them except Presto, more than the others probably could say, but still she couldn't help worrying. She got in the car and pulled it out of the driveway of her apartment building.

Her pregnancy made her extremely self-conscious, despite the gang knowing about the rape and her friends wanting to adopt the baby. Would there be questions she couldn't answer, stares, or even unwanted pity? Sheila could handle just about anything but pity. She hated being any kind of burden on her friends and family, hated being meek little Sheila.

Counseling had helped a great deal, giving her a vent for her fears and anger, but it didn't solve everything. It hadn't helped her with anything that had happened in the Realm... not for lack of talking about it, but because her counselor just couldn't understand what it was like. She often told the woman that it was a story she'd fantasized during her greatest stress, and the woman thought it had to do with the war in the Persian Gulf which was winding down. Sheila, however, knew the truth: that despite being only able to turn invisible, the Realm was the only place she'd truly had any purpose... and even that had been sorely limited.

With a shake of her head, frowning at herself for letting the morose thoughts get to her, the petite redhead joined the flow of traffic leaving the city. She'd thought she'd be late to the camp, but her last class at the University had been cancelled due to an ill instructor. Instead, she'd been able to leave a bit earlier than five o'clock, meaning she could take her time and still show up with the others. Sheila was truly looking forward to seeing everyone again... until, of course, her fears once again surfaced.

This wouldn't do! Sheila tried to tune in her radio, noting the leaden sky and wondering if they'd get rain before she could get to the camp. The thoughts did, at least, distract her from her feelings of helplessness, and the young mother-to-be bit her lip in concentration. She didn't like the look of that sky one bit.

Sheila finally made the decision to pull off at a rest stop to see if the clerk might know the forecast, since her old radio had apparently decided to quit. Slipping out of the Beetle, the pregnant redhead took one step and was suddenly washed in a downpour. Having her question answered in such an unpleasant way, she slipped back into the car to wait it out, wondering just how the others were fairing with that heavy rain.

It was sometime before she finally felt confident enough to get back on the road, not caring that waiting long after the deluge had stopped had made her later than she'd hoped. She would find the side road that lead to the camp and make her way to the house she recalled from a summer trip as a child. With any luck, her heater might even start working so she could be reasonably comfortable before arriving.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


With a sickening screech, tires ripped over loose dirt and gravel. Brakes locked and the Station Wagon skidded out of control towards the steep embankment. The steering wheel was ripped from the petrified grip of the driver. The car careened over the edge, into the rushing waters of the river twenty feet below, smashing into the large boulders as it slid down the muddy slope. It came to rest upside-down, windows submerged completely by the rain-swollen waters of the rushing river. Fear froze the occupants as much as the early summer snowmelt from the mountains above them.

She screamed as the Station Wagon in front of them suddenly lunged to the right, heading directly for the river below. Shooting her arms out straight, bracing herself against the dashboard, something in the back of her mind insisted she was doing something dreadfully wrong. She couldn't pull her thoughts together, however, even to check on the others in the old Pinto, as their vehicle got caught in the deep grooves made by their predecessor. They were helpless as the unsteady car followed the other over the riverbank and slammed into the larger car, scraping horrifically. Her screams continued as the pain was underscored by the grating, tearing sound the vehicles made with each other and the water-washed boulders.

Hearing the sound of metal ripping and grinding, the driver of the old Jeep tensed his hands on the wheel, not even glancing at his companion. He kept his eyes sharp, looking for any signs of what could only have been an accident involving at least two cars. Fear filled him as the driver thought of whom would be traversing this little used backwoods road. He came around a corner and remembered to slow down for the large water-cut washout in the road. Expecting to find the accident still didn't prepare him for the sight of the deep grooves cut in the dirt road and coursing over the steep riverbank. Pulling the Jeep to a halt, motor still running, the driver stepped from his vehicle only to become belatedly aware that another motorist was approaching too fast around the rain-washed curves. He had no time to jump for cover, hearing screams, as the Park Avenue ripped out of control and slammed right into him.

He had told the man to be careful, to slow down, but had been blatantly ignored again. Growing in frustration, the passenger jotted down some more quick notes in his ever-present daily planner, marking his plans to ruin the chauffeur as soon as possible. He sent another glare towards his temporary driver, but before he could again comment, his eyes widened, animosity replaced instantly with abject horror as he felt the car slipping. It slammed out of control around a curve and headed inexorably for an idling Jeep and the man standing in the road beside it. As the two vehicles, and the figure, collided, his pen scratched uselessly across the paper, a silent, unintelligible testimony to the tragedy.

Humming along to the upbeat music of her finally working radio, carefully steering her tiny Beetle, the driver shook her head at yet another rut in the muddy gravel of the country lane. Winter storms and spring floods had prepared this hilly woodland for disaster, and the recent rains had finished setting the stage. In fact, around more than one curve, she'd discovered deep water nearly washing-out the road before her low slung vehicle. If it got any worse, she'd have to stop and either turn back or risk trying to walk the rest of the way. As she slowly rounded a sharp bend, however, all other concerns became moot. Before her were the signs of a large accident. She tried to hit her breaks, but the vintage VW only succeed in getting caught in the slick muddy gravel and sliding towards the already horrifying sight of the two-car accident. No sound came from the driver as her tiny car rear-ended the Park Avenue before her. With the ensuing darkness came the fleeting awareness of pain in her head and across her abdomen and back, then she knew no more.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Every second seemed to move in slow motion as the teenager tried to force open the door latch. It wouldn't budge and the icy water was starting to seep in. Terri turned painfully to Bobby, but before she could even register her companion's condition, a horrendous crunching, wrenching wracked the half-submerged Station Wagon.

Something large had slammed into them, tearing the roof along the boulder-lined river as it twisted the under carriage with the force. The boulders surrounding them held them from sinking fully into the freezing depths, but that refuge was precarious and made more so as whatever had landed on them teetered. Terri screamed as she felt the vehicle shift a second time, water rising, as the object rocked over into the waters below. A glimpse of yellow caught the corner of her eye but was gone so quickly under the roiling current, the girl couldn't register what it had been. The sound of grating metal and rock was loud enough to cover her cries of panic.

A hand flailing against her face broke through Terri's fear momentarily. The girl forced herself to turn, relief washing over her as she saw that Bobby was trying to release his seatbelt. He was bent double, trying to keep his head above water, but the teens both knew his well-trained muscles couldn't hold out for long in the freezing confines. The sixteen-year-old started helping the older boy fumble with his seatbelt as the Station Wagon shifted once more. Terri was becoming frantic as she felt herself slowing with the onset of numbness. Her eyes desperately sought and held Bobby's. His determination seemed to shine through and helped booster her flagging reserves.

The pair finally managed to get the belt unhooked and the blond teen unceremoniously slid into the icy water submerging the top of the car. Everything rocked again at his weight shift, but by some miracle they remained balancing on the water-smooth boulders. Twisting, Bobby came up for air and tried to grab a few quick breaths before he gripped Terri's arm to gain her attention. Both were now thoroughly soaked and shivering almost uncontrollably. With a nod, the young man signaled he was as recuperated from his extending hanging and sudden dunking as he'd allow himself time for.

"Cover... face... Terr..." His teeth were chattering, breath coming in painful gasps, making his words nearly impossible to understand. With relief, he saw Terri wrap her arms around her head in compliance. Pulling back his muscled arm, Bobby let loose with an elbow slam at the window, using as much strength as he could muster. The window shattered, spraying painful glass shards in every direction. A deluge of icy, muddy river water rushed in to start quickly filling the car. It wouldn't be long before the two ran out of air completely.

Bobby tugged Terri towards his broken window and she obeyed more out of instinct than actual thought. "Hold... breath... Go!" He gave her a shove and she was rammed into the door, glass cutting into her hands and face. Ignoring the pain, the girl wriggled from the car and started trying to scramble over the slippery, smooth boulders. Bobby, being of a far stockier build, was having trouble fighting the current and the tight opening. Pain lacerated his sides as he twisted and forced himself through, slamming his face against one of the large rocks and nearly passing out. It was Terri's grip on his hair that brought him round before he could submit completely. The couple scrambled, slipped, and crawled their way towards the riverbank, collapsing as they made it to relative safety.

The accident and escape, which felt as if it had lasted hours, had been over within a matter of minutes.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


The Pinto came to a crashing, grinding landing on top of the undercarriage of the Station Wagon. Windows shattered from the impact, though they had thankfully landed upright. Varla's screams cut off with the sickening stop. She renewed her terrified noises, this time a pitiful mewling whimper, as both vehicles precariously rocked on the slippery boulders. Then, with a sudden shift, the Pinto grated across the Station Wagon and slid into the churning, rushing river. It sunk quickly, starting to fill with water through the windowless doors.

Uni gasped in air and swam for the opening closest to her. She didn't think, going on sheer instinct. The teen made her way out of the car and was swept downstream in a rage of icy water. Bleating in terrified protest, the former unicorn could only do one thing: swim with the current to wherever it would take her. The journey lasted only a moment or two as she was suddenly, and very painfully, rammed into a jam of debris washed there by the rains. She felt herself blacking out and had to shake her head forcefully before she could regain enough intelligence to crawl as high on the makeshift dam as possible. There, she passed out, one hand floating limply in the water surrounding her refuge.

Quickly fumbling with his belt, Andrew could feel the cold seeping into his very bones. He couldn't get out. In desperation, the man reached over to the radio and yanked the screwdriver from its position, jamming it into the belt and ripping. Under normal circumstances his strength, which wasn't the greatest, and the durability of the belt would have made the stunt impossible, but adrenaline had leant the man the extra bit he needed to actually impale the heavy fabric. He managed to get it cut through, but was unable to do anything remotely heroic for his wife and Uni. With a twist, the assistant professor slid his thin frame through the window only to be buffeted against the side of his battered car... a car that was being forced downstream by the rushing rain-swollen river.

The red-haired twenty-two-year-old's belt came undone as soon as she attempted it. In relief, fighting her fears, Varla tried to turn to help her husband but felt the insistent waters tugging at her, pushing her against her shattered window. Her back was sliced in numerous little places, but the woman felt nothing. Loosing strength quickly in the icy waters, she finally gave up and shifted so her body would be taken along with the water out of the tiny vehicle. As she fought to surface in the roiling water, Varla became aware of a looming shape: the Pinto was starting to roll over, heading right for her.

As she fought the urge to scream once more, an action that would have surely drown her, the young woman tried to duck under the shifting vehicle. She was unsure just how deep the river went, but took the chance that she could find protection further down. It didn't occur to her that the car might sink right on top of her, the lack of foresight a boon for the frightened medical student, and she actually temporarily defeated her fears and found her ploy had worked. The car moved over and away in seconds, leaving a tired and waterlogged Varla trying to fight her way back to the surface, her terror resurging instantly. She bumped into another person and wrapped her arms tightly around the figure, dragging the form with her without thinking of the consequences.

Her captive struggled, but not against her panicked grip. Instead, it worked at lifting them both to the surface, giving a mighty effort to rescue itself and the one dragging it down. As their heads came over the top of the water, Varla felt the arm of her victim-turned-rescuer slide around her waist and haul her against a slim, wiry body. She blinked in surprise, then relief, when she realized that Andrew had been the one she'd found in the blurry water. He didn't look at her as he hauled them both towards the shoreline, still relying on the adrenaline rush that had seen him through the ordeal thus far.

When they made it to shore, Varla broke into sobs but willingly started helping her husband crawl further up the muddy bank; he was trembling in exhaustion. With *terra firma* below her icy feet, however, the redheaded woman felt safer, more secure. Andrew looked up and gave her a cock-eyed grin, right before passing out. It was only then that Varla became aware of the fiery pain in her arms, but that concern faded compared to what had happened to her family. She was too tired to recall Uni at the moment and let the darkness envelop her before she could.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


The first thing that became known, with his returning awareness, was the pain in his lungs. He was having trouble breathing, the breath having been literally knocked out of him with the force of the accident. Hank brought a trembling, bleeding hand up to his chest, gasping as the pain intensified to include his entire upper body. Gingerly, he moved his head, experimenting. When he saw that the impact had forced him up and over the hood of the oncoming Park Avenue, the officer was more stunned than thankful. He'd been sure, in those last few seconds, that he would be pinned between the cars, at the very least.

With an involuntary groan of pain, the twenty-four-year-old slowly pushed to his hands and knees. He glanced around, seeing a dark-haired man lying facedown next to him. That man was covered in blood and looked as limp as... Hank shook himself mentally, not wanting to think about just what that man resembled. Instead, he reached a hand, as bloody as his companion's, over to try to locate a pulse in the man's neck. It was there and surprisingly strong.

His touch apparently awakened the man from his unconscious state. He coughed, gasped, and moaned. Suddenly, he was scrabbling at the hood of the car, belatedly caught in the throes of the memory of those last few seconds before blessed unconsciousness. With a soft whoosh of air, he once more collapsed in a faint, though his pulse remained strong under the officer's fingers.

Hank, satisfied for the moment that the man would live, gingerly climbed from the car, still having trouble catching his breath. He saw a figure slumped over the wheel of the Park Avenue, but selfishly worked his way back to his Jeep to check on Diana, instead. He needed to reassure himself that she had made it through the head-on collision.

For her part, the dark-skinned woman was struggling with her belt, amazingly calm for someone who'd just watched her husband become nearly sandwiched between two vehicles. She was actually working on automatic, shock settling quickly over her automatically moving body. The young physical trainer go her belt unstrapped, but found her door wouldn't budge. The Jeep had been plowed into so hard that the sturdy vehicle had been pushed forcefully into a small copse of trees on the left side of the road. Diana was stunned that she had actually survived, surveying the crumpled metal surrounding her... the force required to have done that would certainly have caused whiplash or a broken neck in most cases.

Climbing carefully from the wreckage, thankful for the open-topped vehicle Hank so adored, the raven-haired woman made her way over the roll-bar and onto the crumpled hood. Shock prevented the horror from touching her as she was able to pick up her pace and slide to the ground beside her gasping husband. The accident had been so severe that, even with the different paint jobs, it was hard to tell where the Jeep ended and the Park Avenue began.

Hank ignored his own bruised lungs, and probably broken ribs, to lean his forehead against that of his wife. They stood for a long moment thus, each giving silent support to the other. Their ordeal was far from over, but the couple was prepared to face it together.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Coming out of the darkness, Eric was only aware of a haze of dark red light. Pain lacerated his entire body and he was certain that if he hadn't already died, he would shortly. He couldn't see how anyone could live through such a fate.

As the cars had hit, he'd felt his body forced towards the front of the rental. With a horrific tearing pain, the executive felt his belt give way and his flight was unimpeded, until he hit the windshield head on. He'd blacked out then, and only recalled briefly that he'd felt cold and hot and horribly pained all at once. The touch of someone's fingers had brought him round for about a second, but he'd blacked out again... and now he wondered if he'd only imagined that human contact.

Blinking to try to clear the haze, the dark-haired man brought a shaking hand up to wipe at his sticky face. He managed to get the blood and ground glass, for that was what he was covered in, from his eyes and mouth. Slowly, sure at least half, if not all, of his bones were broken, Eric turned onto his back, nearly falling off the hot surface of the car hood. He gulped and used pain-filled muscles to ease himself to the ground.

Nausea hit with the realization that the Park Avenue had been heading directly for a pedestrian. If he, the passenger, felt this bad, what of the man that had been in the road? The wave of nausea passed and, with a groan, Eric pulled himself to his feet, trembling in the aftershocks. He turned to survey the damage and was horrified to spot his driver slumped over the wheel.

Sliding in the mud, unsteady and in constant painful torment, the young executive pulled himself to the back door and wrenched it open. The front of the car was badly crumpled, but the driver seemed to have escaped a good deal of the injuries Eric was sure he, himself, had. The man leaned in and touched the cold neck of his employee then caught his breath. Fumbling, desperation filling him, Eric sought a pulse that wasn't there. The man was dead, and it took a few agonizing moments for the young man to let that sink in and pull back.

He put his head against the door and gulped, fighting a new wave of nausea. This couldn't be happening. Not when he was so close to seeing the others. Not when he'd just taken his first real vacation in years. Not when he was responsible for bringing this man out on these rain-soaked roads. He had to remind himself that it was this guy's crazy driving that had caused the accident in the first place, but the thought brought no consolation to the horror-stricken young man.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Pain. There was nothing else in her world: just pain. Sheila blinked open her eyes, shielding them from the extremely bright glow of sun through trees. She rather wished the sky had stayed leaden and gray, rather than this cheery sunny brightness. It hurt. As the redhead blinked again, she became slowly aware of more than just a throbbing headache. Her belly hurt, as well.

Horror filled the woman and she scrambled to run bleeding hands over her rounded tummy, hoping against hope that the infant she carried would be okay. Yes, it was a product of a horrible beginning, but over the months, Sheila had come to care about it for itself... and had learned to bury the fear and pain that had started this tiny life. Now, she desperately wanted to make sure her infant hadn't been hurt when the Beetle had plowed into the back of the car in front of her.

It was a long, very tense, moment before she felt a healthy kick. Amazed, crying in relief and the after-effects of her fear, the woman slowly made her way from her totaled vehicle to lean against its side for support. Her trembling legs didn't want to hold her. She took a few steadying breaths before lifting her hazel eyes to the sight of, not two cars, but three crumpled together.

Sheila was horrified at the sight. She'd had no idea a third car had been involved at all. Had she caused that? Or had she happened upon an accident already in progress? She wanted to break down and cry at the thought of hurting anyone, no matter how unintentionally, but resisted.

Pushing away from her car, the young woman carefully slipped her way around the back of her vehicle. Upon reaching the passenger side, she became aware of several tire tracks leading off the road and over the bank. They looked fresh and she was drawn by a sense of morbid curiosity, mixed with a faint hope, to see if anyone had survived such a terrible trip into the river. When she got there, and looked over, she noted a blue car upside-down and pretty smashed up lying among the large boulders. Its familiarity threatened her nerves once again, but she pushed back relentlessly and started to look around for a safe way down.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Perhaps an hour after the catastrophe, the survivors of the five-car accident were painfully, slowly trudging up the long road. None of them had spoken to one another yet, nor even had taken the energy to try to figure out who was who. Through the blood, mud, and debris, it wasn't too clear just who one's neighbor was on the slippery road. All they knew was that ahead lie a newly opened camp house with beds, old clothes, and a phone. They could rest... and call emergency services... and deal with their injuries and the death of their tenth person.

The end of the road came slowly to them, but eventually it was there. Soon, one of the females was opening the still unlocked door and stepping inside. No one protested this seemingly rude action; they were too tired and achy to really care who got inside first. After mere minutes, the nine were standing in the middle of a family room, dazed looks mixing with gasps, moans, and painful panting. Finally, slowly, the woman who'd entered first lifted a hand to massage the back of her neck, gesturing slowly with her other hand towards a closed door.

"Showers are in there, Guys, maybe three of them. Phone's on the wall. I'll check for first aid supplies." She took a step towards the open doorway of the kitchen but stopped and turned. "There are about four bedrooms, too... so, just claim one if you wanna..." fumbling, as if trying to replace a word she had been going to use, the dark-eyed woman softly said, "rest." She moved into the other room, followed by a harsh-breathing man.

No one spoke a word as they made their slow way into various rooms to clean up and recover.

To be continued in Chapter Three: Waning Crescent


	3. Waning Crescent

Title: Waning Crescent

Series: Full Circle 3/ 4

Rating: PG-13: Language, Violence, and other sensitive topics** Setting: Earth 1991**

Characters & Ages: Bobby- 17, Diana- 23, Eric- 23, Hank- 24, Presto- 21, Sheila- 22, Terri- 16, Varla- 22, Uni-17, James Sr. - 42

Note: Okay, so maybe the second half of this sucks, but I suddenly realized halfway through that my idea sounded good when I started but sounded cheesier and cheesier as I kept writing. If anyone wants an alternate written for the second half of this story, let me know. If no one's interested, I'll let it stand as is.

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

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The first person to step from the shower room was Eric. He was bleeding freely from his many lacerations and certainly looked as if he'd been thrown through a windshield at high speed. The fact that he was walking with only a small limp and appeared to have no truly serious injuries was a miracle in itself. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, having, like everyone else, headed in without stopping for clothing. Moving gingerly, the brunet didn't need look around to see who else might have been in the accident and had traveled with him over that long muddy road; he already knew it was the other members of _The Six_.

Limping into the family room, the twenty-three-year-old executive let himself sink onto an old, comfortable chair. He started opening the first aid supplies he found close at hand, working silently on his wounds. Trust Diana to be so together that the house would have enough supplies to last a summer of painful mishaps. They certainly would need them if his own injuries were comparable to those of the others.

As he worked, the sound of someone else, breathing heavily and moving to sit nearby, alerted Eric. He glanced up, recognizing Hank instantly. With a frown, the raven-haired man moved closer. "Hank?" He was concerned over the continued gasping his friend seemed to be doing.

Hank had taken the opportunity to shower and slip into a pair of sweatpants, but that was almost more than he'd felt up to. Diana had also already strapped his ribs for him, but somehow he felt he couldn't catch his breath. The officer had come to the realization that he might be suffering internal injuries, possibly to his lungs. Thus at Eric's concern, he turned his head and gave a grimace, not putting out the effort to speak.

Eric frowned and reached over to his friend. He didn't know how to help the man, but wanted to try. How many times had Hank been there for him in the past? Even when he'd been at his whiniest and most bitter, the other man had stood behind him. Eric wanted the chance to repay three years of support, feeling so very inadequate suddenly. This certainly wasn't like taking sudden control over Sheila's life.

Diana, still rubbing her neck, aware of the stiffness and pain now that the initial shock had worn off, came out of a bedroom. She was dressed in loose sweat clothes and carrying other articles of varying sizes. "Hey, Eric. Fancy running into you here." She stopped, then shrugged one shoulder, deciding that she wasn't going to dance around all mention of an accident. "Here. These should fit." She gave him a pair of sweatpants but stopped short at the amount of cuts the young man had all over his body.

"What..."

He took the pants and started painfully sliding into them, letting the towel protect his modesty until the soft material covered his hips. Folding the towel, absently, he shrugged with a wince and softly explained, "I went through the windshield." Raising brown eyes, he noted the horror in his friend's face. "Hey, relax. I feel like hell but I'm alive..." Eric cut himself short as the memory of his driver's current state came flooding back.

The pain and sudden grief in the man's eyes didn't go unnoticed by his companions. Diana touched his arm briefly, not knowing as well as Hank just what had occurred to make Eric look like that. She was aware someone's body had been left behind, though, and wondered just what relationship the deceased person had with her friend. For once, Diana didn't probe, moving instead to check on her husband.

Suddenly, Hank stopped gasping. His pale blue eyes widened as the difficulty lessened instantly. Extremely surprised, and confused as to how it was possible, he turned carefully towards his dark-haired wife and friend, who had apparently noticed and were watching him in equal surprise. As his breathing continued to come with little pain, caused by the broken ribs, the blond put a reassuring hand on Diana's. She frowned but nodded and moved off towards the shower room.

Hank determined to puzzle out his sudden increased comfort later; Eric needed him right then. "Eric... who... who was he?"

"Who? Oh." Eric shook his head, confusion giving way to the dreadful memory once more. "His name was James, but I didn't really know him. He looked familiar, though." He paused, the slowly continued. "I'd just hired him today for this one trip." Bitterness and anger filled the young man's voice, "that guy wouldn't slow down no matter how much I told him to. I think his foot was welded to the pedal or something. Man, when I get back to town I'll give that agency a piece of my mind! That man will never work..." He cut himself off, brown eyes widening and face going pale. Looking sick and guilty, Eric turned his face away, once more starting on bandaging his many wounds.

Understanding Eric's sudden withdrawal, Hank nodded and began to help in his first aid attempts.

As the two men worked in the family room, Andrew came out of the showers. He blinked in shock to find Diana there, quickly wrapping the towel around his waist as he flushed bright red. She gave him a wan smile and handed him some clothes then placed another set on a low table. "Those are for Bobby. Any other men in here?" The blushing redhead shook his head and watched as the woman left. The auburn-haired man turned and let out a small scream, hand clutching at his chest in his fright. The stocky blond behind him had moved without sound, it seemed.

Bobby quirked an eyebrow and grinned, running a hand through his longish damp hair. Passing by the thinner, older man, the teen ignored Andrew's attempts to regain his equilibrium; he grabbed the borrowed clothes and snorted. "Trust Sheila to forget I've grown up, not Diana. Hey, Presto... got anything that we can swap?" He turned to offer his old friend a pair of slacks that would never fit over his muscular thighs.

Andrew nodded and offered the sweatpants he held. "Uh... I don't usually go by Presto since college, Bobby." The thin man slid the slacks over his own hips with ease, frowning at how much larger the once smallest member of their team had grown.

"Okay, then you call me Bob, and I'll call you... what was your name, anyway?"

The assistant professor stopped, turning an incredulous look on his friend. "Uh... Andrew. My name's Andrew." He took in the amused nod from the blond, then suddenly made a decision. "Never mind, Bobby. Call me Presto. My wife does, anyway. I guess..." and he shook his head, amusement now lighting his golden eyes, "nobody really would remember my real name, huh?"

The blond laughed and tossed a sweater at the man. "Only if they knew it. I never did." And with that, he pulled on the sweatshirt and headed out the door to join the others.

With a frown, Andrew followed, noting the men all bandaging varying wounds. He slipped onto a couch, looking at the seats scattered around. There was one couch, a loveseat, and several single chairs. The wooden floor had a large fur rug, as well, though he couldn't tell what type since, contrary to popular belief about cabins, this one contained no head or paws. With a shrug, the man reached for some bandaging to tend his own cuts. "Where're the girls?" Eric mumbled something, which sounded like "Bedroom", but Andrew couldn't be certain.

Diana made her way into the largest bedroom, knowing the other females had descended there for their washing up, as it was the only other room beside the kitchen with running water. She smiled at the three redheads and the brunette, putting the rest of the clothes on her bed and moving to aid in bandaging Sheila's head wound. "Welcome to the camp house, ladies."

Unable to control herself despite the very odd reunion they were going through, the youngest redhead giggled. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, but she received an answering smile from Diana and relaxed, uncovering her mouth once more. Uni started to greet the others but unexpectedly what came out was, "I feel cold." The teen was shivering almost uncontrollably, and couldn't seem to get warm despite having wrapped in a blanket from the bed. As Terri moved to help her dress, Uni gave another involuntary shudder, which nearly sent them both to the floor. Her large maroon eyes grew wider as she looked at Terri. "I... I'm warm all of a sudden." That confused her.

Terri shook her head, just as surprised. "I don't know... I've been warm since about halfway down the road, actually. I think it was the exercise. You're a lot thinner than I am, though. Maybe it takes you longer to get warm?" The brunette checked the other teen for injuries then helped her get into a summer dress, which looked about forty years out of date. She, herself, was already dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

The comments between the younger girls made Diana frown. Something just didn't add up right. She reached for her own neck, to continue rubbing the stiffness out, but suddenly paused; the pain was gone. Chocolate eyes widened and her mind raced over what she'd learned so far: Hank's breathing had gotten instantly better, the red-haired teen was sudden warm, and her own neck seemed to recover all on its own. Those weren't typical recoveries, the physical trainer would have sworn to it. Her thoughts were interrupted, however by a sigh from Sheila.

The pretty twenty-two-year-old turned to the others and smiled. She had dressed in a very loose nightgown, the only thing that fit over her pregnancy. "Well, I'm glad we've all made it." She didn't catch Diana's shake of the head and remained unaware that there had been one fatality. Laying a hand on her distended abdomen, the woman turned to smile at Diana, saying softly, "The baby's been kicking since I got out of the car. It's not easy to walk with a shifting watermelon constantly bumping along."

Laughter, at first uncertain then slowly relaxing, broke out among the woman. The amount of first aid supplies Diana had brought into the bedroom had run out and Terri still had untreated lacerations, as did Varla, so they finished dressing in the old clothing then moved towards the larger family room. It was instinctive, but didn't go unnoticed on Diana, that four of them seemed to group protectively around their fifth, pregnant member. As the women settled they noticed that all four men were already out there.

Quickly, before he could stop her, Sheila walked into Bobby's arms with a big hug. He didn't give away for a minute that his sides and arms were cut from his escape from the car. Instead, he hugged her back, then pulled away quickly. He didn't like public displays of affection... at least if they involved touching or a lot of sappy words. His sister seemed unconcerned, merely contenting herself with pulling him to sit on the couch near a chair she chose for herself.

Diana sighed, knowing that introductions should be made, since none of them really knew Presto's wife or the woman's sister... though the woman seemed familiar. The dark-skinned woman turned to look at everyone present, then nodded and smiled, making the first attempts at group conversation. "Is everyone bandaged?" She reached for the first aid supplies, but stopped at Hank's words.

"We need to call the police." She watched him move to pick up the phone and dial. He spoke softly and quickly, then hung up within a couple of minutes. The woman's eyes, as well as everyone else's in the room, had never left their former leader as he arranged everything.

Turning, Hank frowned, then turned it into a soft smile for his friends. "What a reunion." He ran a hand through his blond hair and moved to sit by his wife on the loveseat, glancing worriedly over the group to assure himself they would be fine. "It good to be back together again..."

It was Andrew who spoke up at that. "I guess eight years is a long time, huh? Uh... a lot's happened." He reached over for Varla's hand. "You won't believe the story I've got to tell you."

"Might as well pass the time before the cops arrive." Eric's voice was uninterested, despite his inner feelings. He knew the story his friend referred to and didn't want to give the guy a chance to ask _him_ to tell it. Instead, he wanted to sit and rest... it was supposed to be his vacation after all.

Andrew nodded. "It really doesn't start with me, though."

"Can I tell it?" The red-haired teen sat forward eagerly, her eyes not on her guardian but on her oldest friend.

In return, the blond frowned, feeling this girl was familiar from somewhere. He noticed her intent look and met it head on, not one to back away from any perceived challenge. As her smile widened, Bobby had a nagging feeling that he was missing something... or ignoring it. "Well, I don't care who tells it." His tone was defiant and he wanted to kick himself for his rudeness, but let it go.

An elbow in his side, causing him to gasp in pain and clutch the injury, brought his attention to Terri. She'd been meaning to chastise him for being rude; at his pain, however, horror filled her blue eyes and she turned to put bandaged hands on his shoulders. "Oh! Bobby, I'm sorry!"

"Bobby, you're hurt!" Sheila's worried voice echoed Terri's concern.

"Leave it, Sis. I'll be fine. You're hurt worse than me." His voice was defensive, reminiscent of the old days when she'd always fussed over him in the Realm.

A soft chuckle brought everyone's attention to the redheaded teen once more. "Just like old times." Her voice was amused, though most of the people present had no idea what she was talking about. "I remember that so clearly, Bobby." The name seemed to roll off her tongue naturally, as if she'd known him for years.

The blond frowned and tilted his head, still puzzling over where he'd seen this girl before. He took in the pale, delicate skin, the long, graceful limbs, the fiery red hair and deep maroon eyes. Suddenly, he went as pale as she was, shock written across broad, handsome features. His voice was a hesitant stutter, "U... Uni?"

"Of course it's Uni; who else would it be?" Eric's voice was derisive.

Andrew, wanting to avoid a sudden argument, jumped into the fray. "Yeah, it's Uni. Uh... the Realm went from bad to worse after Venger became a good guy." He was interrupted by an indignant glare from his ward.

"You said I could tell the story!"

"Uh..." the auburn-haired man nodded, golden eyes wary, "sure, Uni. Good ahead."

She seemed delighted once more, quick anger forgotten. Turning and noting all eyes on her, the former unicorn quickly explained about the destruction, meeting Varla, her transformation to human, and Venger sending them to Earth. When she had finished, she gave her friends a wide smile, ignoring their disbelieving looks for the moment.

Eric took up the story before Uni could even finish basking in the attention. "They wound up in my pond." The man grinned at the indignant look Uni gave him. "My dad said they couldn't stay," he rolled his eyes, not going into details about his father's distrust of Eric's or Varla's morals. "So, they went to live with Presto."

A moment of silence followed the words, accompanied by Andrew's wide smile and his gentle hug for his wife.

Sheila broke the stillness by moving to hug both Varla and Andrew then bestowing her embrace on Uni. She breathlessly added, "And for those who don't recognize her now that's she's grown up, this is Terri." She moved to hug her brother's best friend. For Varla's benefit she added, "Terri had been in the Realm for awhile, too."

With a laugh, Terri smiled at the woman whose door she had fixed. "I had no idea you were from the Realm, Varla. Or that you were married to Presto." She turned to Bobby, refraining from hitting him again but giving him a mock-frown. "And you said you had no idea if that was where Presto lived!"

"I didn't!" He barely looked at Terri, his eyes still glued to Uni. In surprise, he whirled, wincing at the injudicious movement. "Wait, these are the two girls you told me about?" He gulped, trying to get rid of the now embarrassing image Terri had given him two days before. Finally, nervously, he called out, "Hey, Uni... it's... really good to see you again." The gushy-stuff, as he referred to emotional displays, actually didn't come easy to him... especially as he'd had a nasty fantasy about Terri's new friends for all of five minutes.

Smiling, the teen jumped up and hurried to give Bobby a hug, ignoring his sudden protests. She slid to the ground to sit at his feet, happily letting him tangle a hesitant hand in her still-wet hair. It felt natural to lean back against his legs, and the girl could feel her old friend starting to relax, as well. She glanced up and met his smile with another one of her own. "It's wonderful to see all of you again."

Eric snorted but didn't say a word, letting his eyes stray to Sheila. His expression unknowingly softened as he tried to determine how seriously she might have been hurt. When her eyes drifted over to meet his, accompanied by a gentle smile, he let himself nod and look back at the others. She was fine; he could tell.

Suddenly, the entire group was talking in pairs or shouting over each other. It was as if a dam had burst. They swapped stories and reassurances, a cacophony of laughter and conversation swelling around the group. No one seemed bothered that they couldn't hear every word spoken, or that they found themselves repeating things to others who hadn't heard. It was enough to be reunited once more. The general atmosphere was that of a group who hadn't seen each other in a month rather than varying amounts of times as long as eight years. By the time two or three hours of trading stories passed, the din had calmed into one person talking at a time.

In the residual peace, Hank frowned worriedly towards the darkened windows. He stood and walked over, checking outside. Straightening, he turned to find everyone suddenly silent and watching him expectantly. With a shake of his head, he shrugged and said, "No sign of the police or an ambulance. I wonder if they couldn't get past the wreckage yet." He moved to sit on the arm of his wife's side of the loveseat, tangling fingers with Diana.

Bobby, still stroking Uni's now nearly dry hair, shrugged and winced. "Well, I'm hungry. We can at least eat while we wait, right? How much food is there, Diana?"

She smiled. "We're stocked for the summer with everything except fresh fruit, milk, and such. We have enough of that to last maybe a couple of days. If I could get some help, I'll start on something." She stood, Hank letting her hand go, and waited for any offers.

Not disappointing Diana, Varla stood and smiled. "I love to cook." At Uni's groan, the older woman turned and frowned at the girl she'd come to think of as a sister. "What?"

"I want to eat, not play guess what's on the plate, Varla!" Uni moved to stand but a hand on her shoulder stopped her as much as Bobby's hand still in her hair did. She looked up at Terri, who smiled widely in reassurance, winking.

The brunette headed towards Diana with a nonchalant wave. "Rest, Varla. I'll cook tonight. You can cook some other time." With that, the two headed into the kitchen and the redhead slid into her seat, frowning softly.

Uni flushed, suddenly realizing how her complaint must have sounded. "I... I didn't mean it like that, Varla. I meant... well... you like to try so many new recipes... and..."

The twenty-two-year-old cut her off with a nod. "It's okay, Uni. I know you don't like my cooking." Gray eyes met maroon ones. "It's why you're always ordering take-out."

Andrew laughed, trying to break the building tension. "So... uh... Sheila... are you having a boy or a girl?" He winced after he asked, remembering just how she'd gotten pregnant. Maybe the baby was a bad topic after all.

Sheila didn't seem to think so, though. She shrugged and smiled wider. "I refuse to find out. My counselor said it was better not to know, since I'm giving it up for adoption. If I knew, I'd get even more attached." She rested a hand over her distended belly as she pondered her next words for a moment. "It'll be hard enough to give it up as it is, but..." here she met Hank's eyes and confidence once more flowed through the young woman, "it's the right thing. I can't handle raising a baby on my own."

The blond officer smiled for her. "Sheila..." He thought a moment longer then asked, "Is it terribly hard to carry the baby?" At her reaction, he realized she wasn't as calm about the entire ordeal as she'd been acting and wanted to kick himself.

The woman blanched, biting her lip. How could she tell him that she still felt the guy's hands on her sometimes, woke up from nightmares that he was in her room? How could she tell him that she was terrified he'd find her again and hurt her? And, how on Earth would she tell Hank that the baby she carried scared her even more than the idea that the rapist would return? That the reason she had chosen to give it up wasn't because of the memories, but because she was terrified of being a single mother... and failing her child miserably?

Swiftly, without thinking about how it would look, Eric rose and limped over to Sheila's side, kneeling down and taking her hands. He reached up and forced her to break eye contact with Hank, to meet his own eyes instead. His voice was strong and reassuring as he spoke. "Sheila, look at me. He won't find you here. He's in jail... remember? The detective found him just before New Year's."

Nobody asked how Eric could have known that, as Sheila hadn't told even her family about the capture. They were too stunned by his odd actions and by Sheila's response to him. She was suddenly crying and trembling, just as unexpectedly flunging her arms around his neck, holding on as if to a lifeline. Eric held her close, eyes closing as he gently rocked her, murmuring soothingly in a voice too low for any but her to hear.

Bobby had frozen at his sister's pain, but was the first to recover after seeing the odd embrace. Confusion welled up, shock that Eric had the guts to do such a thing or Sheila would accept the embrace after all she'd gone through. How could he have known she wouldn't get hysterical at his touch? Realization dawned and Bobby drew in his breath in shock. Of course! That made perfect sense now. It hadn't been Diana helping her all these months; it'd been Eric... and for some reason the pair had decided to keep his involvement a secret. Just like Eric and Andrew had kept it a secret that Varla and Uni had come to Earth. Hurt welled up at the idea that he'd been left out of things with these girls he cared so much about.

As the teen felt hurt turning to anger, he forced himself to remember the counseling he had after Sheila's rape. He took a deep breath, then two, and forced his hands to relax, belatedly becoming aware that he'd gripped Uni's hair rather painfully in his emotional surge. Leaning close, he whispered, embarrassed, "Sorry, Uni." Her understanding nod made him feel like a callous jerk anyway.

For their part, Andrew and Varla were looking rather uncomfortable. The medical student looked at her husband then leaned her head on his shoulder. The auburn-haired man looked anywhere but at the pair across from him. Eric was his best friend, but even he hadn't known that the man'd gotten that close to the pretty redhead. It was... disconcerting to say the least. Especially as no one had any clue how the two had managed any sort of close friendship with Eric out of town nine days out of ten.

Finally, Sheila pulled away from Eric's embrace. He opened his eyes and smiled gently at her, cupping her face in his bandaged hands. Their eyes linked, neither seemed aware of the group as the man leaned closer to the woman. Someone's cough brought them out of their emotion-charged state, but neither looked around still watching each other intently. Another long moment passed before the brunet slipped his hands from Sheila's face and turned to rest his side against her chair, one hand falling to cover hers on her belly.

He blinked in surprised as he felt the infant kick close to where their hands rested. Eric had been preparing to confront the others if they challenged his right to comfort Sheila, but the infant's movements pushed everything else from his mind. This was the first time he'd actually gotten a chance to do anything like feel the baby kick. He turned wide brown eyes up to Sheila's hazel ones once more, emotions flitting across his face too quickly to be identified.

Diana's voice from the kitchen broke through the intense moment, drawing the attention of the uncertain onlookers and participants alike. "Dinner's ready. Hope no one minds PB and J. Neither of us had much energy." She was carrying a plate out, followed by her assistant chef, but stopped at the tableau. Eyebrows raised at the sight of Eric at Sheila's feet, his hand covering hers, but the woman didn't say a word. She let her eyes meet Hank's troubled gaze and smiled her own confidence in the situation, promising herself mentally that she'd get the full events out of her husband later... or that she'd get them from Sheila.

Rather, she continued on her way to the center of the room. Sliding the plate of food onto the game table in the family room, Diana moved out of Terri's way towards Sheila. "Hey, is the baby kicking again?" She saw Sheila's sudden smile and bulldozed on, trying to relieve the tension which still hung in the air. "Well, after Eric's had his turn, can I feel? I've wanted to for a long time." She smiled at her friend, noting how Andrew and Varla relaxed a bit at her comments.

Eric moved his hand, but didn't get fully out of the way, stubbornly staying by Sheila's side.

The dark beauty didn't seem to care, though. She merely lay her hand over Sheila's belly, patiently waiting for the infant she was going to be adopting to make itself known. At the kick, Diana's eyes lit up and she met Sheila's excitedly. "Strong." Her voice was barely a murmur.

Terri moved over, smiling, and begged a turn as well. Sheila laughed and said, "Okay, let's get this over with. Everyone form a line if you want to be kicked." The others relaxed the rest of the way and moved to crowd the expectant mother, discussing the infant but wisely avoiding any further comments which might bring back the tears she'd shed a few moments ago.

It was a contented crowd that started to eat their unusual dinner. After the sandwiches were consumed, the mother cooed over, and more stories shared, the party broke up. Still no response from the emergency service crew had some worried, but the others were determined to make the best of it. They would rest while they waited.

Hank and Diana moved towards their bedroom while Andrew and Varla claimed the smallest one. That left the last two rooms to be split between the single girls and guys. Terri and Uni headed for bed, though Sheila remained comfortably in the chair, too content to move yet.

Bobby headed for the last room, but he paused in the doorway to look back. Eric was still kneeling at Sheila's feet. They seemed to be talking quietly, unaware of being watched. The teenager frowned and walked alone into the room, unsure just how he felt about the idea that his sister seemed really close with the man; Eric had always been the one member of the group that had grated on everybody's nerves... especially Bobby's. The teen trusted the man not to deliberately hurt his sister, but that didn't give him faith that Eric was good for her, either.

In the family room, Eric lay his head against Sheila's thigh, listening to her softly spoken plans for the future. He found he was strangely content for the first time in a great while. He slid his hand up to rest over the baby, feeling a flutter rather than the strong kick of earlier. Lifting worried eyes, Eric met Sheila's gaze and her smile reassured him that everything was still fine. The executive returned her smile and watched her as she fell back into conversing about her college plans.

"Eric?" Sheila's soft voice alerted the young man to the fact that he'd been drifting off.

He lifted his head and stretched. "Sorry. Tired." Meeting her eyes again, he smiled then stood. The brunet held out a hand to assist her. "We should go to bed."

The woman froze in the motion of standing, one hand in his, the other coming to rest against his chest in instinctive protest. Her hazel eyes widened slightly, then she blushed. "Uh... bed..." The idea of going to bed with this man was... tempting... but a bit... suddenly, she realized that he hadn't meant it that way.

Her face flared up even more, freckles almost overcome by the red heat in her cheeks. Sheila felt like she wanted to sink through the floor, hoping he hadn't sensed how she'd taken the words. What had made her start thinking such things about Eric? He was her friend... but they'd never even spoken of dating let alone anything so serious.

Eric seemed unaware of the reason behind Sheila's sudden embarrassment. He frowned, wondering what had happened to change the last few seconds. Gently cupping her face, the man tilted his head and asked softly, "What?"

She shook her head, trying not to meet his eyes.

He was insistent. "Sheila, it's me, Eric. What's wrong? You can tell me; for five months, we've talked about everything."

_Everything except us._ She sighed and wondered if there even was an 'us' where they were involved... and was surprised to find she really wanted there to be. Suddenly afraid, Sheila needed to distance herself, needed time to think things through. "Eric... I... I'm tried. We need sleep before the police come."

"The police are already here, so tell me what's wrong. Come on, Sunshine, you're supposed to talk about these things, not clam up. Remember? We had a deal."

But Eric's attempt at a joke had distracted her from the rest of his words, including the silly nickname. Sheila looked towards the still dark windows with a frown. "The police are here? I don't see them, Eric." She turned her frown to him.

The man rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Hank's a cop. He's here. So don't worry. In the morning we'll get out of here. For now, let's talk." He stroked one finger down her cheek, watching her hazel eyes widen, and his voice softened to a coaxing purr. "We haven't talked face to face in awhile, Sheila."

She pulled away with a shake of her head, hiding the desperation she felt. "We'll talk tomorrow, Eric." Before he could protest, she turned and slipped into the room with the two teenagers. She didn't even seem to hear his regretful sigh... or his soft "Good night, Sunshine."

Eric was left alone, watching the closed door for a very long time.

~~* ~~* ~~*  


Sunshine thankfully interrupted the nightmares that wracked Terri's sleeping moments. She had spent a restless night, often lying awake in the long darkness listening to the other two women breathing as they slept. With the dawn, however, the teen gave up on all attempts at sleep and quickly got out of bed. She was surprised at how little her injuries ached, but pushed the thought aside as she once more donned the T-shirt and jeans. The brunette headed into the main family room.

The sight that greeted her stopped her dead in her tracks.

A very short man stood in the center of the room, smiling gently at her. The long white hair, age-old eyes, and flowing, red robes brought back horrible memories and the girl shook her head in mute protest. She backed away from the mage, not caring why he was there, merely wanting him to leave. As her legs hit the loveseat, the girl sat abruptly, then hugged herself, letting silent tears well in her eyes.

"Go away." She didn't care how rude it sounded, Terri absolutely did not want Dungeon Master around *The Six*. She had a feeling that the nightmares that had prevented sleep last night were not mere dreams. "Haven't we had enough trouble yesterday?"

The man stayed away from the teenager, but his smile slid to a sad expression. "It is because of yesterday that I am here, Young One."

She shook her head. "I thought you couldn't come to Earth. Why..."

"The Realm is torn, as you now know. We need help. We..."

Terri jumped to her feet and strode quickly to the little man, anger sparking suddenly. "Go away!" She sliced a hand through the air as if signaling the finality of her words. "We've pulled ourselves back together; you ask us to tear ourselves apart again. We can't keep popping over there and coming back then try to live life like nothing's changed." She whirled away from the man and strode back across the room to the giant fireplace near the fur rug. Her stride settled into an anxious pacing and the girl was unaware of the emergence of the entire group as she ranted at Dungeon Master.

"I only spent a few months in that god-awful place, but I saw how it tore the others apart when they came back. They're probably still piecing things together. You can't ask any of them to go back. Not now... not when we're finally settling down with..." She whirled on him again, "For God's sake, Sheila's pregnant. She certainly shouldn't have to help in that hellhole!"

Sheila stepped forward, speaking before anyone else could. "How... how did you get here... Dungeon Master?" She caught sight of Eric's intense frown, but ignored it.

The Dungeon Master turned his sad look upon the pregnant woman. "Hello, Thief."

Again he was interrupted, this time by Bobby's growl. "No! Not Thief: Sheila. We're not your pupils anymore, Dungeon Master. You gave us a choice to leave or help, and we left." He flushed at the sudden memory of Uni telling about the downfall of much of the Realm. "And besides, Uni and Varla were sent here to keep them safe. Now you're asking them to go back, too, or just us?" He didn't realize how his questions sounded as if he were considering returning.

Hank stepped forward, letting his arm fall from his wife's waist. He looked at Dungeon Master intently. "Everyone, let him talk." The words were calm, but an order none-the-less, and despite years of relative normalcy the group once more listened to their former leader.

With a nod, the old mage turned to look at each person. "Yesterday, a great battle was fought in the Realm." He saw the frown deepen on the former Cavalier's face and looked directly at him, deliberately not using his teaching riddles at such a very drastic moment. "Great cities fell, great people died. This evil has managed to reach into your world, however, Young Ones. Yesterday, he used his great magic to attack the greatest warriors your world has ever had the privilege of sending to the Realm. Yesterday, he nearly succeeded in eradicating the Young Ones forever."

Andrew jumped in at that, his quick mind having figured things out before the others. He asked, "Does that mean this guy used magic to attack us, Dungeon Master? I thought magic doesn't work on Earth."

Dungeon Master shook his head. "It can and does, but it takes a great deal to do so. I used a great store of energy in protecting your souls yesterday, and even more to come to you this morning. I have little time, but you must know that I have come to offer you a chance to return to the Realm and live there... to fight this evil and rebuild the Realm."

"What in the world would make me want to go back there?" The words were out of Eric's mouth before anyone could blink. He glared at the man whom he still blamed for three years of hell. "Give me a very good reason or you can find yourself a taxi out of here."

"I understand, Cava... Young One." He quickly changed what he'd been about to say at the younger man's fierce glare, going on with the rest of his explanation in a reasonable tone. "I can only give you this: your rescue workers never came to you because they saw no hope." He met each person's gaze with a brief look of his own. "If you come to the Realm, it will be permanent. You will never be able to return here. If you do not come to the Realm, you will suffer the fate you were meant to suffer. A fate I prevented against all rules and orders."

The former Children of Power looked at one another, not quite understanding this final riddle. They started speaking at once, complaints and questions shooting back and forth. The sound of more than one person crying could be heard. Finally, Hank held up his arms for silence. "We'll discuss it, Dungeon Master. How long do we have?"

"You have one hour, Young Ones. After that, I and those going with me must depart." He turned and left the camp house, standing on the porch and watching the sun sparkling on the dew-drenched ground. Uni followed him without comment, much to Bobby's dismay, as well as Presto's and Varla's.

It took almost the entire allotted time. As the group inside debated, argued, and cajoled, the pair outside merely stood, silent and thoughtful. Dungeon Master reached over and touched the hand of the red-haired teen beside him, but neither spoke. Finally, the door opened and a glaring Terri quietly asked the pair to come back in. They did so, the man waiting patiently for the decisions of the Heroes of the Realm.

Hank was the first to speak, as was always his way. He looked directly at the old mage and asked two questions. "If we agree to go back, what happens here? Will our families be told something about our disappearance?"

The mage looked just as steadily back at the young police officer. "They already know, Young One. They were informed yesterday."

Several breathes drew in and Presto softly interrupted, "I told you that's what happened, Hank. That's why you can breath now, and why everyone's injuries don't hurt so much. It's because our decision was made for us," he looked at Dungeon Master, but frowned at the shake of the mage's head.

"You are incorrect, Young One. Your decision is to be made now. Your time here is over. Your bodies remain, but your souls will go if you choose so..."

"We're gonna be zombies? Eww!" Bobby couldn't help the very childish sounding comment; it seemed to just come naturally. In reality, he merely said it to break some of the tension, most of which he was certain came from himself.

With a shake of his head, his gentle smile suddenly appearing, the Dungeon Master turned to the young man. "No." He sighed and thought a moment, noting how Diana glared at Eric to keep him quiet. Finally, he softly explained, "Yesterday, you were attacked by the evil one. He destroyed all ties to this world for you. You should not be here now, except that I have held you here. If you go to the Realm, you leave the broken bodies behind and will be granted new ones. If you stay, you must face the consequences of the accident."

Finally, Sheila sighed and gave an apologetic look to Hank and Diana. "I'm going." Bobby started to protest, as did Eric, but she shook her head. "I... I actually miss the Realm. I... Oh, Eric... you understand me. I don't belong here anymore. It's why I tried to kill myself." The woman's eyes opened wide in horror and a hand flew to her mouth as everyone turned stunned looks on her.

"Sheila?" Bobby sounded hurt. "When... why didn't you say something?" He felt more helpless than when he'd found out about the rape... more distant from his beloved sibling than ever before.

She merely shook her head and stated simply, "Eric saved my life, Bobby. He's what's keeping me alive right now. But... in the Realm, I can do something... be somebody. I... I want to go back."

Turning stares from Sheila to Eric, the entire group seemed to be having difficulties processing this latest development.

The woman turned to Eric. "Please, understand?"

He stared at her a long moment. Ignoring everyone else around him, Eric finally stepped forward and took her hand. "I understand, Sunshine. I'll go with you. You're gonna need someone to talk to, after all." He didn't add that he wanted to protect her in that hellish place; he didn't need to. They both understood why he'd go back to the last place he ever wanted to be.

Sheila wrapped her arms around the dark-haired man and buried her face in his chest, sobbing in relief.

Bobby frowned but crossed his arms and nodded decisively. "I'm going too."

"Bobby, no!"

He looked at Terri and sighed, dropping the tough pose and taking her hands, his blue eyes softening. "I... you know I want to join the military; I'm a born fighter, Terr. And in the Realm I can fight... I can make a difference without these stupid politics getting in the way and dictating..." He shook his head, realizing that the explanation made no sense and trying again. "I want to help the Realm, Terr... and help protect Sheila like I never got to last Christmas. You're my best friend... but Sheila's my family."

The girl shook her head. "You've still got parents, Bobby... they're family." She sounded desperate, gripping his hands painfully in hers.

The former Barbarian shook his head. "Terr, I don't think so. I... I've always been closer to Sheila than them, you know. I love her more." The gushy stuff, but the truth. He couldn't think of anything else that he could say to make her understand his decision.

Sobbing, Terri let go his hands and covered her face.

Uni broke the silence by firmly saying, "I'm going home, too." She smiled at Bobby's brief smile.

Varla and Presto didn't look at the others, merely looking at one another, silent communication seemingly going on between the couple. They didn't react to Sheila or Eric, nor Bobby and Terri. In fact, they even seemed oblivious to Uni's wprds. Instead, as one, they agreed to join Dungeon Master, as well. The decision merely brought on more sobs from the former Dreamer.

Dungeon Master turned his wise old eyes on the remaining Young Ones. Hank stood quietly watching the tableau, pale blue eyes worried and wary. Diana, for her part, seemed determined about something. She stepped forward and slid her hand in her husband's, drawing his attention at last, trying to communicate what she wanted.

"Hank?"

He turned and looked at her a long moment. Slowly, the man turned back to Dungeon Master. "If I understand you correctly, sir, they only choice is to go to the Realm." He felt Diana's reassuring squeeze and was relieved to know that she, too, had decided on that course. "We'll go."

At that final answer, Terri pulled her face from her hands and tried to stifle her sobs. She straightened her shoulders, looking from person to person, and finally, slowly, nodded. "O... okay. I'll... go... too." Her words were punctuated by small sobs, but there was new determination in her voice. "I can't... live here... without... you guys... and..." She turned to Bobby, "I wouldn't... want to... anyway."

He wrapped his arms around her suddenly, unexpectedly. The pair held one another as the others moved to comfort the girl. None of them, however, tried to change her mind, despite how much they knew she hated the Realm. Bobby didn't let her go as he finally, for all of them, called, "Okay, Dungeon Master, beam us up."

The old mage nodded and a soft light encircled the group. He watched them disappear, knowing they'd be waiting in his citadel for his return, which would be very soon. They, also, would be stunned by Uni's conversion back into a unicorn... it was what she was meant to be, after all. Dungeon Master took another look around the camp house and sighed.

The former Ranger had been correct, as had the former Magician. The evil one had made staying here impossible. The Young Ones could never survive what had finally occurred. Truly, the only choice had been to return to the Realm.

To be concluded in Chapter Four: New Moon


	4. New Moon

Title: New Moon

Series: Full Circle 4/ 4

Rating: PG-13: Language, Violence, and other sensitive topics** Setting: Earth 1991**

Characters & Ages: Bobby- 17, Diana- 23, Eric- 23, Hank- 24, Presto- 21, Sheila- 22, Terri- 16, Varla- 22, Uni-17, James Sr. - 42

Note: This is written in the form of a newspaper report concerning the car accident the Young Ones were involved in. It is the final explanation as to why the Young Ones had to choose the way they did.

Feedback: Please? I love comments: samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

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_**Vacation of Horrors**_

The tragedy ensued at approximately 7:30 PM on June 16, 1991. Late spring melts and sudden down pours made the back roads of the county nearly impossible to travel. Mud and gravel mixed into a deadly cocktail, creating the perfect setup for what could only be termed as the most horrific accident since living memory, according to locals.

Five cars, four headed away from the Interstate and one towards, were caught in the backlash of the storm. The mud apparently caused the wheels of one car to skid, sending it out of control into the nearby river. A second car followed the first. When a concerned driver stopped to aid the occupants of both cars, he was hit by a fourth vehicle as it careened into his waiting Jeep. Unfortunately, unaware of the tragedy ahead, a fifth and final car plowed into the accident on the roadway. No one know who called rescue services, however, though the caller had misinformed EMT's that the surviving victim(s) would be found at the camp house at the end of the road. No one was found in the house, and all persons involved in the accident were apparently still in their vehicles or very close by.

There were ten people involved in the five-car-accident, as follows:

The Jeep: Officer Henry "Hank" Baker, age 24 and an on-the-rise investigator in abduction cases in the surrounding counties, as well as his wife, Diana Lawrence Baker, age 23, a well-known trainer for physically and mentally disabled children. Office Baker, standing outside his vehicle, was caught between his Jeep and the Park Avenue. He suffered multiple fractures as well as a punctured lung. He was proclaimed dead on arrival at the local hospital. Mrs. Baker was still in the vehicle when the passenger side was slammed into a copse of trees lining the road. She suffered a broken neck and was proclaimed dead at the scene of the accident. They are survived by both his and her parents and by Mrs. Baker's brother.

The Park Avenue: Eric Montgomery, son of the founder of Montgomery International, age 23, on a two-week sabbatical from his role as a business executive in the family business. His driver, James Whittaker Senior, age 42, had been hired specifically for the trip. The rental car has been suggested as having hit the Bakers' Jeep, and Officer Baker, head on. Mr. Montgomery was in the back seat, but was thrown through the windshield when his seatbelt broke in the initial strike. He was proclaimed dead at the scene of the accident. Mr. Whittaker is in stable condition the local medical center, with multiple contusions, lacerations, and a broken collarbone. Mr. Montgomery is survived by his father.

The Volkswagen Beetle: Sheila O'Neil, age 22, a local university student majoring in Child Care Development, was alone and according to preliminary reports, the last driver to become victim to the scene. Miss O'Neil suffered whiplash and died of internal hemorrhaging before rescue services could arrive; she was in her second trimester of pregnancy and the infant, a girl, was miscarried. They are survived by Miss O'Neil's parents.

The Ford Station Wagon: Robert "Bobby" O'Neil, age 17, just graduated High School and had planned to join the military in the fall. He was the brother of Miss O'Neil (mentioned previously). Teresa "Terri" Parker, age 16, local High School, student was the passenger in the vehicle. Preliminary reports put this vehicle as the first one over the riverbank. Mr. O'Neil and Miss Parker had drown while still trapped in their vehicle. Mr. O'Neil is survived by his parents, while Miss Parker is survived by her mother.

The Pinto: Andrew Preston, age 21, assistant professor and student at the local university was accompanied by his wife, Valeria Reilly Preston, age 22, and her sister, Unity Reilly, age 17. Their car is reported as the second over the embankment. Mr. and Mrs. Preston perished by drowning in their vehicle, though Miss Reilly had apparently managed to break open her window and crawl out to be sent downstream. She succumbed to hypothermia. Efforts to revive her failed, and she was proclaimed deceased at the scene of the accident. Mr. Preston is survived by his mother, but no living relatives have been found for either Mrs. Preston or her sister.

According to police reports, as well as information provided by horror-stricken family and friends, the occupants of all five vehicles were headed for a two-week vacation at a property owned by the mother of one of the victims. Mrs. Lawrence is quoted to have said, "My daughter [Diana Baker] and her friends had been planning on getting together. They were probably going to celebrate [Robert O'Neil's] the graduation. Diana was looking forward to it." A statement by the Dean of the university claimed Mr. Preston was also "looking forward to spending time with his friends as he worked on his thesis. A hard working, good-natured man was Andrew." A neighbor, who wished to remain unnamed, said, "The biggest tragedy is that both the O'Neil children were involved... even being in separate cars." Many other sentiments echoed these feelings concerning the group of young people.

The lone survivor, Mr. James Whittaker, Senior, claimed, "I did everything in my power to keep my passenger safe, but that blasted Jeep came out of nowhere; he must've been doing a good sixty on those roads!" However, preliminary police reports place the Jeep at a standstill while the Park Avenue, driven by Mr. Whittaker, was going approximately fifty-seven miles an hour. As to the claims of safe driving, a journal written allegedly in the hand of Mr. Montgomery may be used in court to contest them. It is said to describe, in detail, the unsafe driving practices of Mr. Whittaker, as well as Mr. Montgomery's decision to terminate his driver's employment. It remains to be seen whether this evidence will hold up in court. The faulty belt in the rental car is also under investigation.

Rumors that Mrs. Preston and her sister were illegal aliens are being investigated, as well.

Respects for the deceased may be paid this week, and in lieu of flowers, donations may be made.

In closing, the only thing that can be said is that ten people started yesterday on a vacation-get-together, and wound up on a trip to hell. One can only hope that, if there is life after death, the nine tragic young people will have a grand reunion on the Other Side.

End


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